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A  U  THOR: 


LEHMANN,  EDVARD 
1862-1930 


TITLE: 


MYSTICISM  IN 
HEATHENDOM 

PLACE: 

LONDON 

DA  TE : 

1910 


m     m 


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on  IS, i: 


Lehmann,  Edvard  fT-#r4ab*!me€ufi4v«wtl,  18iT2-l930. 

Mysticism  in  heathendom  ari   (  Lnstcnd 
ann  ...  u.  bv  il.  Y 
CO.,  1910. 

3  p.  1,  293,  iti  p.    19"«. 


E.  Lehmann  ...  u    bv  G.  M.  G    iluat.    London,' lS^ac& 


j^iront,  G.  M.  O.,  tr. 


la  xi\\j. 


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MYSTICISM 

IN  HEATHENDOM  AND  ''       'STENDOM 


MYSTICISM 


IN 


HEATHENDOM   AND   CHRISTENDOM 


BY 


Dr.    E.    LEHMANN 

PROFESSOR  OF  DIVINITY  IN   THE  UNIVERSITY  OF   BERLIN 

TRANSLATED   BY 

G.    M.    G.    HUNT 


LONDON: 

LUZAC    &    CO. 

46    GREAT    RUSSELL    STREET,   W.C. 

1910 


'« 


CONTENTS 


-2,7-  /I'E.C^ 


K 


L":< 


Introduction 
I.  Primitive  Mysticism 
II.  Chinese  Mysticism. 

III.  Indian  Mysticism    . 

IV.  Persian  Mysticism. 
V.  Greek  Mysticism    . 

VI.  New      Testament      Christianity      and 
Mysticism 

VII.  The  Mysticism  of  the  Greek  Church 

VIII.  The  Mysticism  of  the  Roman  Church 

IX.  German  Mysticism. 

X.  Luther's  Mysticism 

XI.  QuiETisTic  Mysticism 

XII.  Outcrops  and  After-Effep-^s 


PAGE 
I 

14 
28 

40 

56 

75 

98 
116 

135 
172 

205 

220 

254 


MYSTICISM 

IN  HEATHENDOM  AND  CHRISTENDOM 


INTRODUCTION 

If  all  that  is  mystical  were  mysticism,  who  then 
could   write   a   book   about    it  ?     If   all   that    is 
hidden   and    mysterious,    all   that    is   obscure  in 
human  life,  were  to  be  included  in  the  programme 
—the  paper-mills  would  be  kept  busy,  and  many 
eyes  grow  dim  before  the  book  was  read  to  the 
end.    For  how  little  of  the  things  belonging  to 
this  life  is  really  clear  to  us,  how  much  is  enveloped 
in  vague  uncertainty  and  doubtful  twilight.   What 
we  are,  and  what  will  be  the  end  of  this  world, 
whence  we  come  and  whither  we  go — all  these  ques- 
tions form  part  of  that  greatest,  deepest  mystery 
known  only  to  Him  "  which  seeth  in  secret." 

If  all  that  is  mystical  were  mysticism,  who  then 
could  determine  what  we  are  to  understand  by 
mysticism?  That  indefinable  something  always 
and  everywhere  meets  us,  reminding  us  of  the 
existence  of  that  which  is  beyond  all  human  com- 


MYSTICISM 

IN  HEATHENDOM  AND  CHRISTENDOM 


INTRODUCTION 

If  all  that  is  mystical  were  mysticism,  who  then 
could   write  a   book   about   it  ?     If  aU  that    is 
hidden   and   mysterious,    all  that   is   obscure  in 
human  life,  were  to  be  included  in  the  programme 
-the  paper-mills  would  be  kept  busy,  and  many 
eyes  grow  dim  before  the  book  was  read  to  the 
end.    For  how  little  of  the  things  belonging  to 
this  hfe  is  reaUy  clear  to  us,  how  much  is  enveloped 
m  vague  uncertainty  and  doubtful  twilight.   What 
we  are,  and  what  will  be  the  end  of  this  world, 
whence  we  come  and  whither  we  go— all  these  ques- 
tions form  part  of  that  greatest,  deepest  mystery 
known  only  to  Him  "  which  seeth  in  secret." 

If  aU  that  is  mystical  were  mysticism,  who  then 
could  determine  what  we  are  to  understand  by 
mysticism  ?  That  indefinable  something  always 
and  everywhere  meets  us,  reminding  us  of  the 
existence  of  that  which  is  beyond  all  human  com- 

T 


it 

if 


2  MYSIICISM 

prehension ;  it  is  not  a  definite  thing,  not  a  fact 
about  which  one  can  argue,  nor  is  it  an  historical 
phenomenon  which  can  be  traced  step  by  step 
throughout  the  course  of  ages. 

Yet — we  will  venture  to  speak  about  mysticism, 
and  endeavour  to  find  out  what  it  comprehends. 
We  will  attempt  to  show  what  has  been  its  influ- 
ence for  good  and  for  evil  in  the  world.  Long, 
and  possibly  weary,  the  journey  may  be  which  we 
propose  to  undertake.  We  shall  have  to  dis- 
entangle the  twisted  threads  of  mysticism  as  we 
trace  them  back  into  remote  antiquity.  Distant 
lands  and  vanished  ages  we  shall  visit — but  also 
we  shall  discover  how  close  mysticism  is  to  us  all, 
how  it  may  be  seen  among  us  to-day  or  to-morrow, 
and  appear  Uke  a  new  thing. 

Patience  must  be  our  armour  if  we  would  under- 
stand what  mysticism  says  to  us,  for  it  is  shy  and 
slow  of  speech,  and  expresses  itself  with  difficulty. 
And  when  it  speaks  to  us  we  cannot  always  be  sure 
that  we  understand  the  meaning,  or  rightly  appre- 
hend the  train  of  thought  it  follows.  Down  into 
the  depths  and  up  into  the  heights  we  shall  be  led. 
New-fashioned  apparatus  which  might  spare  us 
the  trembling  and  the  awe,  mysticism  knows 
not,  nor  cares  to  know,  for  its  doctrine — like 
Goethe's — is  that  "  trembling  and  awe  are  man's 
best  portion." 

We   must   also  prepare   ourselves   to  be   very 


INTRODUCTION  3 

indulgent   and  long-suffering  if  we  would  enter 
the  society  of  mystics.    Eccentric  though  they 
be,  we  must  bear  uith  their  foUies  and  their  pride, 
their  madness  and  their  misery.      Are  they  not 
men  like  we  are  ?     Perhaps  better  men  than  we 
are  ?     Better  in  that  they  strive  after  the  best. 
How  often  has  not  the  best  dwelt  among  them, 
and  in   them   borne  glorious  fruit?     When  the 
world  of  thought  was  in  progress  of  formation, 
often  enough  the  deepest  philosophic  truths  have 
come  forth  out  of  mysticism,  and  no  matter  to 
what  height  philosophy  has  risen,  mysticism  has 
always   kept   closely   to   its   side.     Where   heart 
conquered  mind,  it  was  mysticism  which  led  the 
way  with  singing  and  dancing,  weeping  and  dream- 
ing ;  happy  as  a  child  or  in  an  agony  of  despair— 
birth-pains  of  a  new  life  about  to  appear. 

In  mysticism  antiquity  has  perished;    out  of 
mysticism  new  times  have  been  born.     It   has 
destroyed  faith  and  brought  forth  a  new  belief ; 
it  has  bred  tension,  and  a  maimed  thing  is  pro- 
duced;    it  has  kindled  and  scorched,  refreshed 
and  poisoned.     It  is  like  wine  which  invigorates, 
but  also  excites  and  degrades.     Somewhat  after 
this  fashion  has  been  the  course  of  mysticism, 
and  we  will  now  trace  it  from  the  time  of  ancient 
heathendom  up  to  the  present  day— or— who  will 
dare  to  say  that  we  have  done  \^ith  mysticism 
because  we  are  more  enlightened  ? 


4  MYSTICISM 

What,  then,  is  mysticism ;  or  rather,  what  is  a 
mystic  ?    for  it  is  easier  to  describe  a  person  than 
to  define  a  thing.     What  constitutes  a  mystic  ? 
What  does  he  do  ?     What  has  he  to  say  to  us  ? 
As  regards  the  latter,  not  much. 
For  the  true  mystic  is  silent.     Quietness  is  his 
delight,  and  silence  is  his  treasure.     The  Pytha- 
gorean philosopher  who  tested  his  disciples  in  the 
art  of  silence  before  admitting  them  into  his  circle, 
wisely  considered  it  more  difficult  to  know  how 
to  be  silent  than  to  know  how  to  speak.     To  the 
monk-mystic,  silence  is  a  sacred  duty  ;    it  is  his 
pride  and  his  power;    it  raises  him  above  the 
babbling  ciowd,  and  the  vow  of  silence  has  kept 
many  hps  closed  even  in  the  last  hour. 

Doubtless  he  is  very  practical,  then,  this  silent 
man— a  self-possessed  person  who  does  not  talk 
because  he  has  better  things  to  do  ?  No  doubt 
an  energetic  and  thorough  man  of  business,  with 
purse  and  feehngs  well  under  control  ?  Alas !  no. 
Worldly  ways  and  means  do  not  interest  our 
mystic  ;  these  do  not  induce  him  to  silence.  Little 
he  carries  about  with  him,  and  little  he  cares  about 
practical  things  and  deeds. 

For  what  is  the  good  of  them  ?  The  only  thing 
worthhaving  is  far  above  all  human  power,  andallthe 
doings  of  the  children  of  this  world  are  far  beneath 
his  exalted  ambition.  No,  let  the  hands  lie  idle  in 
the  lap,  for  the  work  of  our  hands  availeth  nothing. 


INTRODUCTION  5 

Then  is  it  by  thinking  that  man  is  to  work 
out  his  salvation,  and  is  it  depth  of  thought  which 
makes  our  mystic  dumb,  like  the  man  who  was  so 
engrossed  in  his  circles  and  figures  that  he  forgot 
to  save  his  life  ?  Yes,  indeed,  it  is  thought  which 
ties  the  mystic's  tongue ;  —  only  his  thoughts 
are  not  like  the  thoughts  the  world  thinks.  He 
does  not  trouble  about  what  one  should  do  or  not 
do,  what  ought  to  be  and  what  not.  He  desires 
not,  like  most  people,  to  understand  worldly  things 
in  order  to  use  them ;  nor  to  understand  human 
nature  that  he  may  serve  it.  Worldly  wisdom 
has  a  practical  purpose,  or,  if  it  be  theoretical,  its 
object  is  still  by  a  gradual  process  to  apprehend 
and  recognise  real  facts. 

At  this  suggestion,  therefore,  our  silent  friend 
also  shakes  his  head.     One  thing  only  occupies 
him,  one  thought,  one  desire  fills  his  whole  being,— 
to  fathom  what  is  beyond  this  world,  to  understand 
what  is  incomprehensible,  the  highest,  that  thought 
cannot  reach,  the  deepest,  that  is  below  all  things. 
He  wants  to  understand  God,  life,  the  spirit  above 
him  and  the  spirit  within  him.     Or  rather  :  no,  he 
does  not  want  to  understand,  for  understanding 
is  a  gradual,  logical  process,  one  thought  leading 
up  to  another  until  the  problem  is  solved  ;  but  how 
could  human  understanding  reach  those  highest, 
sublimest  heights  ?     Therefore  the  mystic  does  not 
really  want  to  understand.     His  object  is  to  take  a 


\ 


6  MYSTICISM 

direct  hold  of,  to  grasp,  to  embrace,  to  live  and  to 
breathe  m  those  things  which  pass  all  knowledge. 

And  how  can  he  do  it  ?  Not,  certainly,  with  his 
ordinary  five  senses.  But  what  if  there  were  a 
sixth  ?  What  if  in  the  deepest  depth  of  the  human 
soul  there  lay  dormant  a  mysterious  power,  which 
could  be  quickened  if  only  one  went  down  deep 
enough  to  rouse  it  ? 

Thai  is  what  the  mystic  believes.  He  believes 
in  the  existence  of  a  power  for  apprehending  the 
higher  things,  a  power  which  not  every  one  possesses, 
but  which  can  be  acquired  and  stimulated  by 
extraordinary  efforts — in  short,  he  believes  m  a 
mystic  organ,  which  enables  the  devout  or  elect 
person  to  grasp  what  the  world  cannot  understand  ; 
a  power  of  flight  which  exceeds  that  of  any  bird, 
a  capacity  of  soul  which  begins  where  reason  and 
reasonable  grounds  end. 

That  is  why  there  is  so  much  simplicity  and  so 
much  pride  in  the  mystic.  With  the  wisdom  of  the 
world  he  cannot  keep  pace,  but  he  knows  better 
things.  Hence  also  so  much  egotism  among  these 
pious  men,  for  their  own  way  they  will  go.  Yet — 
with  all  his  egotism — the  mystic's  one  object  is  to 
get  away  from  self,  to  be  in  such  close  touch 
with  the  highest,  to  be  so  filled  with  the  thought  of 
the  Godhead  that  he  loses  himself  in  it ;  and— he 
who  is  wholly  filled  with  one  idea,  loses  his  identity. 

The  highest  point,  and  peculiarly  characteristic 


INTRODUCTION  7 

of  mysticism,  is  reached,  when  the  mystically  moved 
person  is  so  entirely  filled  with  this  highest  ideal 
that  he  is  absorbed  by  it.  He  feels  that  the  God- 
head dwells  in  him,  and  declares  himself  to  be 
God. 

This  oneness  of  the  human  soul  with  the  Divine 
Being  is  the  conceit  of  mysticism,  it  is  this  that 
makes  mystical  things  into  mysticism.  It  reveals 
itself  under  many  various  forms,  from  the  crude 
"  being  possessed  "  to  the  purest  '*  trance,"  from 
the  curious  religious  ceremonies  of  savage  peoples 
to  the  noblest  systems  of  philosophy. 

What  chiefly  distinguishes  mysticism  is  that  the 
ordinary  religious  person  principally  contemplates 
the  things  which  separate  him  from  God,  and  com- 
pares his  own  nothingness  with  God's  greatness,  his 
finiteness  with  God's  infinity,  his  sinfulness  with 
God's  holiness.  In  realising  the  immeasurable 
distance,  man  remains  fully  and  clearly  conscious 
of  his  own  humanity,  and  looks  upon  his  God  as  a 
definite  being  quite  apart  from  himself.  But  the 
mystic  does  not  believe  in  a  definable  God.  To 
him  God  is  as  indefinite  as  He  is  incomprehensible  ; 
invisible  and  infinite,  therefore  all  -  embracing. 
No  one  can  put  a  distinct  line  of  demarcation 
between  the  human  and  the  divine  ;  therefore  the 
boundary  can  be  crossed,  therefore  man  can  attain 
to  this  unison  with  God. 

The  mystic  knows  no  personal  God.     Personality 


8 


MYSTICISM 


INTRODUCTION 


ill  I 


has  limitations,  therefore  away  with  personality, 
both  in  God  and  in  man.  With  regard  to  God, 
personality  implies  barriers,  boundaries  which  must 
be  pulled  down  through  meditation;  with  regard 
to  man,  it  implies  a  burden  which  must  be  got  rid  of. 
Personalities  stand  opposite  to  one  another,  as  / 
to  thee.  The  true  mystic  refuses  to  think  of  himself 
as  standing  before  his  God  as  an  /  to  a  thou,  but 
rather  as  an  /  to  a  higher  /.  Or  better — he  wants 
to  be  so  absorbed,  so  made  one  with  his  God,  that 
there  exists  no  longer  either  /  or  thou. 

After  this  manner  thinks  the  mystic  ;  but  how 
about  his  character  and  behaviour  ?  These  vary 
considerably,  from  venerable  repose  to  wildest 
enthusiasm.  Amongst  them  there  are  sorcerers 
and  monks,  poets  and  philosophers,  respectable 
citizens  and  hysterical  women  ;  but  one  thing  they 
all  have  in  common,  namely,  the  desire  to  be  in 
that  condition  in  which  the  highest  may  be  reached. 

Most  of  them  are  conscious  of  the  hmitation  of 
their  actions,  and  concentrate  all  their  efforts  upon 
the  development  of  the  mystic  organ,  the  sixth  \^ 
sense.  Their  supreme  desire  is  therefore  to  pass 
beyond  the  condition  of  soulish  equilibrium  which 
is  kept  together  by  the  five  senses. 

Away  beyond  the  world  of  sense  ;  away,  beyond, 
outside  of  self ;  this  is  their  ambition.  This 
being  outside  of  one's  self,  the  Greeks  call  extasis, 
hence  our  word  ecstasy. 


Ecstasy  is  excessive  joy,  but  not  a  mere  personal 
joy.  It  is  that  condition  in  which  one  stands  out 
of,  or  is  detached  from,  sensible  things,  in  which  the 
earth  vanishes  away,  in  which  the  doors  of  sense 
are  closed  and  only  the  innermost  soul  is  awake. 
Or,  again,  it  is  that  wild,  rapturous  dehght  in 
which  everything  around  is  forgotten,  and  only 
the  yearning  after  the  far-off,  the  unattainable,  / 
remains. 

Whatever  its  symptoms  it  always  indicates  an 
unsound,  feverish  state  of  mind.  Possibly  it  is  a 
form  of  disease  which  reveals  itself  in  our  human 
nature  not  so  much  because  we  are  so  constituted 
that  such  excesses  must  find  expression  now  and 
again,  but  rather  even  as  trees  need  storms  and 
shakings  to  bring  them  to  further  growth— so 
the  human  soul  needs  to  be  tugged  and  startled 
out  of  balance,  and  even  taken  out  of  itself  some- 
times, when  a  step  forward  in  growth  is  imminent. 

Ecstatic  rapture  is  one  of  these  tugs.  And 
even  when  it  partakes  of  frenzy,  that  is  but  the 
purchase  money  which  has  to  be  paid.  Mysticism 
is  a  very  important  factor  in  the  history  of  the 
development  of  the  human  soul.  It  is  a  kind  of 
growing  pain  which  attacks  the  young  shoots, 
but  which  passes  away  when  the  fresh,  vigorous 
Hfe  has  gained  the  upper  hand.  Where  this  is  not 
the  case,  where  human  nature  cannot  extricate 
itself  from  the  meshes  of  mysticism,  there  it  maims 


il  tli 


10 


MYSTICISM 


and  weakens  and  bows  to  the  ground,  'as  is  seen 
at  the  present  moment  everywhere  in  the  East, 
and  even  sometimes  among  us  in  the  enlightened 
West. 

Mvsticism  can  become  a  habit,  because  the 
ecstatic  conditions  which  produce  mysticism  can 
obtain  a  habitual  power  over  the  senses.  And 
especially  where  ecstasy  is  the  result  of  drinking— 
as  is  so  often  the  case  in  the  East— man  not  only 
becomes  addicted  to  drink,  but  also  to  those  vain 
broodings  which  follow  in  the  wake  of  intoxica- 
tion. There  are  other,  more  vigorous  means, 
however,  for  bringing  oneself  into  a  state  of 
rapture  :  thus  in  India  hashish  and  opium—every 
people  after  its  kind.  We  even  hear  of  suffocating 
and  sweating  baths,  of  frantic  dances.  When  the 
dervish  has  whirled  round  till  he  drops,  when  the 
Ashantee  negro  has  performed  his  wild  war-dance, 
wielding  his  club  until  he  foams  at  the  mouth 
with  mad  excitement,  they  have,  each  in  their  own 
way,  gained  that  divine  power  which  they  sought. 

But  there  is  yet  another  kind  of  intoxication 
which  works  admirably,  although  the  process  is 
slower,  and  to  which  the  mystic  resorts  preferably 
when  he  wishes  to  get  into  a  rapt  condition.  This 
is  asceticism.  Asceticism  consists — as  we  know 
from  the  penances  prescribed  by  the  Roman 
Catholic  Church — in  penitential  exercises  and 
chastisements  imposed  upon  the  penitent  or  upon 


INTRODUCTION 


II 


oneself  for  correction  or  punishment ;  mortifica- 
tions and  hardships  inflicted  for  the  expiation 
of  some  sin,  to  gain  the  forgiveness  of  the  Church 
or  a  heavenly  reward.  But  this  material  object 
and  direct  benefit  was  not  the  original  idea  of 
penance.  Let  us  take  one  of  the  commonest 
penances,  fasting,  and  trace  it  back  to  its  oldest 
form.  We  find  that,  although  a  chastisement  to 
the  flesh,  its  original  object  was  to  inflame  the 
senses  ;  for  the  first  phase  of  exhaustion  is  followed 
by  violent  agitation  and  light-headedness  which 
produces  visionary  flights  of  the  imagination. 

We  know  also  that  the  scourging  and  laceration 
of  their  bodies,  as  practised  by  some  ascetics, 
produces  a  kind  of  frenzy,  an  ecstatic  madness, 
as,  for  instance,  in  the  Cybele  priests  of  Asia 
Minor  or  in  the  flagellants  of  the  Middle  Ages. 

Thus  we  see  that  at  all  times  mystics  have 
resorted  to  asceticism  for  producing  ecstasy. 
Most  often  it  is  silent  asceticism,  which  consists 
in  resigned  inactivity.  The  Greek  Athos-monk, 
like  the  Indian  Fakir,  sits  in  his  corner,  fasting, 
dumb,  deaf  to  the  outer  world,  staring  incessantly 
at  his  own  body  or  at  the  tip  of  his  nose,  until  his 
senses  and  his  reason  become  confused,  until  all 
becomes  inner  vision  and  beatitude — until  he  is  ^ 
consumed  by  self-hypnotism.  It  has  often  been 
proved  that  mystic  asceticism  is  a  kind  of  hypnotic 
stupefaction,  and  where  mysticism  does  not  come 


ta 


MYSTICISM 


under  the  influence  of  culture  this  method  com- 
pletely gains  the  upper  hand.  The  surest  way  for 
becoming  one  with  the  Godhead  for  these  people 
is  through  artificial  sleep. 

The   lower   the   standpoint    of   mysticism,   the 
more  such  artifices  are  resorted  to ;  and  where  we 
find    mysticism    among    primitive  peoples,   it    is 
always   preferably   ascetic.     Mysticism,   however, 
does  not  grow  in  perfection  in  the  same  proportion 
as  it  throws  off  asceticism  and  ecstasy,  but  rather 
in  proportion  as  it  gains  in  spirituality.     Many  a 
wise  man  goes  about  as  a  fool,  and  many  deep 
thoughts  can  only  find  expression  in  clumsy  out- 
ward customs.     Little  by  little,  however,  as  the 
internal  light  breaks  through,  these  external  forms 
are   modified.     The   increase   of   intelligence   and 
enlightenment,   elevating  human   nature,   clashes 
with  the  old,  crude  customs,  and  seeks  to  transform 
them.     Thus    ecstasy  becomes   enthusiasm,    and 
intoxication  spiritual   transport.     Asceticism   be- 
comes moral  renunciation  and  noble  self-control. 
Self-absorption  changes  into  calm  contemplation, 
the  giddy  dance  into  flights  of  intellect,  and  mental 
confusion  becomes  harmony  and  poesy.     Through 
all  this  mental  activity,  the  personality  of  man 
asserts  Itself,  and  claims  its  eternal  right,  by  the 
very  same  means  by  which  formerly  it  tried  to 
ignore  and  nullify  itself. 
Now,  since  mysticism  gives  vitality  to  forms 


INTRODUCTION 


13 


which  originally  opposed  its  progress,  it  practically 
drives  itself  away,  as  the  day  the  dawn.  For  this 
is  the  true  mission  of  mysticism,  that  it  announces 
the  approach  of  dawn,  and  evil  is  the  day  which 
is  not  preceded  by  this  dawn.  The  tragedy  of 
mysticism — and  it  requires  all  human  energy  to 
prevent  its  taking  place  —  is  that  it  may  just 
as  easily  degenerate  into  the  dusk  of  evening, 
enveloping  the  soul  in  impenetrable  twilight. 

We  shall  observe  this  transformation  scene  as 
we  watch  the  course  of  mysticism  through  the 
ages. 


PRIMITIVE  MYSTICISM 


15 


I.  PRIMITIVE  MYSTICISM 

The  goodman  of  the  house,  Mytchyl  of  Kolym, 
of   the  tribe  of   the   Siberian   Yakuts,   is   about 
to  offer  a  sacrifice  in  honour  of  Ulgon  Bai,  the 
mightiest  of  the  divinities,   whom  he  wants  to 
propitiate.    A  great  feast  it  is  to  be,  for  during 
the  last  year  the  crops  have  been  bad,   many 
horses  have  died,  and  several  of  his  people  have 
suffered  from  an  infectious  disease.     His  eldest 
son  has  been  at  death's  door,  and  two  of  his  wives 
have  remained  childless.     Besides,  it  is  now  a  long 
time  since  he  has  celebrated  a  really  good  sacri- 
ficial feast.     The  old  family  priest,  the  Shaman 
Tusput,  has  warned  him  often  enough,  and  told 
him  that  he  would  suffer  for  it  in  the  end,  but— 
a  sacrifice  is  an  expensive  affair,  and  Tusput  is 
greedy.     Now,   however,   Mytchyl  has  made  up 
his  mind  to  do  it  in  good  form.     Friends  and 
relatives  come  from  all  sides  and  assemble  round 
the   "  Yurte,"    i.e.    the   birchwood   hut   of   their 
wealthy  neighbour,  for  they  know  that  the  feasting 
will  be  plentiful,  and  they  will  get  Ulgon  Bai's 
blessing  into  the  bargain. 


On  the  place  selected  for  the  sacrifice,  the  brand- 
new  Yurte  has  been  raised  among  the  birch  -trees. 
For  these  Siberian  tribesmen  have  no  temple  to 
worship  in.  When  they  want  to  feast  the  gods 
they  must  build  a  hut  for  them,  in  every  respect 
like  the  one  they  themselves  inhabit — a  hut  like 
the  oldest  formerly  found  in  the  pagan  North, 
with  a  smoke-hole  in  the  middle  of  the  loof .  This 
hut  is  consecrated  to  serve  as  temple,  by  the 
planting  of  a  young  birch  tree  in  the  centre,  the 
white  stem  of  which  represents  the  road  to  Ulgon's 
heaven.  Steps  are  cut  out  in  the  stem,  nine 
steps  in  all ;  for  there  are  nine  heavens,  vaulting 
one  above  another  until  Ulgon  Bai's  heaven  is 
reached.  Beyond  that  heaven  there  are  still 
higher  realms  of  light,  to  which  the  human  mind 
cannot  penetrate.  High,  high  above,  the  Supreme 
Being,  Tengere  Kaira  Kan,  sits  on  his  throne. 
From  this  Supreme  Deity  all  the  gods  have  pro- 
ceeded, Ulgon  Bai  among  them.  One  of  the  first 
created  beings  was  Erlik,  the  primeval  creature, 
who  sinned  and  was  cast  out  of  heaven.  He 
descended  and  created  the  earth,  and  therefore 
there  is  so  much  evil  in  the  world.  Yet  the 
children  of  men  are  not  left  fatherless  in  this 
wicked  world.  The  spirit-fathers  watch  over 
them,  those  seventeen  exalted  Kans,  who  rule 
over  the  various  districts  of  the  earth  and  protect 
their  descendants.     Besides  these,  there  are  the 


i6 


MYSTICISM 


PRIMITIVE  MYSTICISM 


17 


light-fathers,  who  inhabit  the  third  heaven,  and 
who  also  are  friendly  towards  men. 

Only  the  Shaman,  however,  can  communicate 
with  these  spirits,  and,  what  is  most  important, 
only   he   who    has    intercourse   with   spirits   can 
have  access  to  the  deities.     As  in  the  Catholic 
faith,  the  saints  are  the  mediators  between  the 
believers  and  their  God,  so  amongst  these  heathen 
the  spirit-fathers  bring  the  interests  of  humanity 
— and  that  only  through  the  priest — before  the 
higher    deities.     It    requires    more    than    human 
agencies  to  bring  the  priest  outside  of  himself  ; 
the  fathers  must  enter  into  him  and  fill  him  with 
superhuman  strength.     Therefore  not  every  one 
can    become    a    Shaman.     In   certain    privileged 
families  the  office  is  hereditary,  not  because  these 
families  are  particularly  deserving,  or  particularly 
gifted,   but   because   nature   has   endowed   them 
with  one  thing,  the  power  of  being  seized  with 
convulsions   at   the   right   moment,   a  hereditary 
disposition  towards  epilepsy.     Physical  affections 
of  this  kind,  cramps,  convulsions,  madness,  frenzy, 
have  at  all  times  filled  the  uncultured  with  a  holy 
dread  ;  he  sees  in  these  not  only—as  in  all  diseases 
—devil's  sport,  but  he  beheves  that  higher,  divine 
powers  are  mixed  up  with  it  and  *'  possess  *'  the 
madman. 

Natural  tendency  alone,  however,  is  not  suffi- 
cient to  entitle  one  to  become  a  priest.     Many 


exorcisms,  incantations,  and  magical  dances  are 
necessary  before  the  scion  of  a  thus  encumbered 
family  can  become  a  duly  installed  Shaman. 
From  his  infancy  he  has  to  practise  his  tricks  and 
keep  them  up  to  the  mark,  just  like  any  other 
professional  dancer.  When  once  installed  he  is 
ready  for  action  at  any  time,  and  the  power  may 
come  upon  him  suddenly.  The  first  symptom  is 
exhaustion,  then  he  begins  to  tremble,  yawn  and 
groan,  as  if  suffering  violent  pains,  when  suddenly, 
with  fierce  yells  and  rolling  his  eyes,  he  whirls 
and  leaps  about,  until  he  falls  foaming  and  quiver- 
ing to  the  ground.  His  senses  and  his  limbs  are 
now  quite  numb,  he  can  swallow  knives,  nails, 
needles,  anything  within  reach,  without  receiving 
any  harm,  and  afterwards  throw  them  up  again. 
One  can  prick  a  needle  deep  into  his  flesh  and 
put  a  piece  of  red-hot  iron  in  his  mouth  and 
he  will  not  feel  it.  This  condition  shows  clearly 
that  the  power  of  the  fathers  has  entered  into 
him. 

A  Shaman  of  this  description,  Mytchyl  had 
bespoken  for  his  feast.  Phantastic  and  imposing 
is  the  appearance  of  the  Shaman,  in  his  long, 
flowing  robe  with  iron  images  and  charms  danghng 
from  it.  But  the  chief  article  of  his  get-up  is  a 
large,  flat  drum  of  reindeer  skin,  which  he  carries 
like  a  shield  on  his  arm.  This  Shaman  drum 
is  the  symbol  of  the  universe ;  it  is  adorned  with 


MYSTICISM 


pictures  representing  the  sun  and  the  stars  at  the 
top,  in  the  middle  trees,  and  in  the  lower  division 
men  and  animals.  In  this  world  in  miniature 
the  spirits  are  to  take  their  places  inside  the  drum. 
First  the  Shaman  drums  them  together  with  the 
dull  beat  of  his  rough  drumstick,  after  which  he 
shuts  them  up  inside  the  drum.  The  handle  of 
the  drum  is  in  the  shape  of  a  human  figure,  bearing 
the  disc  of  the  drum  between  his  extended  arms 
and  legs.  This  little  drum-man  is  the  spirits* 
"  host."  He  welcomes  them  in  the  name  of  the 
universe,  and  appoints  to  them  their  places  inside 
the  drum. 

This  is  the  first  act  of  the  ceremony  ;  the  fathers, 
one  after  another,  are  drummed  inside  the  drum. 
The  Shaman  is  alone  in  the  Yurte,  and  answers 
his  own  call  with  the  voices  of  the  spirits.  At  last 
he  is  filled  with  the  power  (or  the  gas)  required  for 
rising  up  into  the  heavens,  but  he  must  have  a 
mount.  For  this  purpose  a  horse  is  held  ready 
waiting  outside  the  Yurte.  But  the  Shaman  can 
only  make  use  of  the  soul  of  the  horse.  This  he 
fans  or  tickles  out  of  him  with  a  birch  twig,  and 
pretends  to  tie  it  with  a  horsehair  strap  to  a  pole 
in  the  Yurte.  A  terrible  fate  awaits  the  horse. 
Outside  in  the  lonely  forest  he  will  be  flayed  alive, 
for  he  may  not  die  either  by  blows  or  w^ounds. 
The  skin  has  to  be  ripped  off  without  being 
damaged  or  torn,  and  hung  up  in  the  wood  as  a 


PRIMITIVE  MYSTICISM 


^9 


symbol  of  the  sacrifice  ;  the  bones  must  be  buried 
unbroken,  while  the  flesh  is  afterwards  greedily 
consumed  at  the  sacrificial  feast,  whereby  the 
drum-man  also  receives  his  share.  The  partici- 
pators in  the  ceremony  thereby  represent  the 
spirits  who  have  come  down  to  join  in  the  feast. 
This  flocking  together  of  the  spirits  is  symbolised 
by  fluttering  movements  and  rustling  noises,  to 
imitate  the  sound  of  flying  wings.  Clothes  also  are 
provided  for  the  spirits,  and  an  offering  of  juniper 
is  made  to  them.  When  all  this  is  done,  the  high 
Kan  has  to  be  called  down,  then  the  gods,  and 
lastly  Ulgon  Bai  himself  with  his  family.  The 
answer  to  each  call  comes  with  the  words,  a 
Kam  at!  (Shaman,  I  come!).  The  drum  is  now 
growing  so  heavy  with  all  the  spirits  that  have 
been  drummed  into  it,  that  the  Shaman  can 
scarcely  hold  it.  At  this  juncture  it  is  important 
that  the  door  of  the  Yurte  should  be  securely 
locked,  so  that  no  good  spirits  can  escape  and  no 
evil  ones  enter. 

Now  the  Shamanising,  properly  speaking,  begins. 
The  spirit-fathers  inside  the  drum  emit  a  salutary 
power  which  can  be  transmitted  to  men  hke  an 
electric  or  galvanic  spark.  The  donor  of  the 
sacrifice,  with  his  household,  are  put  under  the 
influence  of  this  power.  They  are  all  rubbed  over 
the  back  in  order  that  all  evil  may  disappear,  and 
they  are  then  each  in  turn  filled  with  the  power  of 


20 


MYSTICISM 


the  fathers,  as  the  drum,  with  many  wild  gesticula- 
tions, is  pressed  against  their  ear  or  bare  chest. 

The  children  and  the  timid  have  now  to  leave 
the  hut,  for  already  the  Shaman  is  getting  beyond 
himself.  Furiously  beating  the  drum,  he  leaps  on 
to  the  first  notch  in  the  birch  tree  ;  this  signifies 
that  he  has  entered  the  first  heaven,  and  by  striking 
with  the  drum  on  the  ground  he  announces  that 
the  shell  of  this  heaven  has  been  broken  through, 
expressing  his  infinite  joy  over  this  accomplish- 
ment by  dancing  round  the  birch  tree  and  the  fire. 
Then  he  mounts  a  saddle  hanging  on  a  rack  in  the 
hut ; — and  thus 'seated  on  the  horse's  soul  he  rides 
towards  the  second,  or  storm-heaven.  Every 
time  he  conquers  a  new  heaven  he  has  to  perform 
some  definite  act.  When  in  the  third  heaven, 
he  foretells  the  wind  and  the  weather ;  in  the 
moon  -  heaven  he  shoots  a  cuckoo ;  from  the 
creator 'sheaven — the  fifth — he  brings  down  strength 
for  women  and  children.  With  every  conquest  of 
a  new  heaven  his  antics  become  more  frantic.  At 
last — if  he  be  a  strong  Shaman — he  arrives  unhurt 
in  the  ninth  heaven,  where  he  calls  upon  Ulgon 
himself  to  inquire  whether  the  sacrifice,  the  horse, 
has  been  accepted.  Finally,  after  several  more 
hours  of  wild  dancing  and  gesticulating,  the  Shaman 
collapses.  Black  and  blue  in  the  face,  foaming 
at  the  mouth,  his  limbs  quite  rigid,  he  lies  for  some 
time  gro'ming  and  moaning  on  the  ground.     A 


PRIMITIVE  MYSTICISM 


21 


deep,  solemn  silence  reigns  in  the  hut.  Suddenly 
he  rouses,  leaps  up,  and  now  the  merry  part  of  the 
feast  begins,  for  the  consolation  of  the  frightened 
spectators  who  have  dutifully  witnessed  the  whole 
performance  to  the  end. 

This  Shamanising  is  mysticism.  Not  because 
the  Shaman,  in  his  ecstatic  wildness,  ascends  from 
heaven  to  heaven,  for  this  he  does  only  to  gain 
access  to  the  gods,  not  to  become  one  with  them. 
All  these  heavens  and  gods  are  promiscuously 
brought  together,  they  do  not  belong  to  the 
original  conception  of  Shamanism,  and  therefore 
the  Shaman  cannot  become  identified  with  them. 
They  represent  but  the  usual  stages  in  the  assembly 
of  the  gods.  Gnostic  speculations  of  early  Greek 
times,  primitive  creatures,  fallen  angels,  etc.,  have 
been  mixed  up  with  this  conception,  and  even  the 
name  of  Shaman  is  derived  from  the  Indian 
Buddhist  ascetics  (Samano)  ;  the  old  Finnish 
name  was  Kam.  The  only  genuine  part  of  the 
performance  is  the  exorcism,  which  endows  the 
priest-sorcerer  with  magic  power,  converts  the 
drum  into  a  witch's  cauldron,  and  the  spirits  into 
a  kind  of  charmed  brew  with  which  he  heals  and 
exorcises.  This  is  primitive  mysticism,  recognis- 
able in  that  it  makes  the  priest  into  a  spirit-god, 
solely  by  his  ecstasy.  So  it  has  always  been,  and 
so  it  is  now.  Radloff  has  seen  it  all  with  his  own 
eyes,  and  describes  it  in  his  work,  A  us  Sibirien, 


22 


MYSTICISM 


We  find  similar  things  among  other  savage  or 
half-civilised  peoples.  Always  the  same  pompous 
ceremony,  even  where  it  is  only  a  healing  cure. 
In  Africa,  on  the  Loango  coast,  a  black  man  lies 
sick  on  his  mat.  The  sick  man  is  not  kept  quiet 
as  would  be  the  case  with  us,  but  a  fiendish  noise 
of  drums  and  rattles  and  bamboo  guitars  fills  the 
hut.  In  the  background  crouches  the  holy  ganga, 
the  magician-doctor,  who  paints  his  skin  with 
glaring  colours.  By  the  door  of  the  hut  burns  a 
fire,  and  a  flickering  light  in  the  distance  announces 
the  approach  of  a  torchlight  procession.  A 
second  ganga  comes  to  the  bed  of  the  sick  man. 
Like  real  surgeons  the  two  priests  open  their 
cases,  but  the  instruments  they  take  out  are  tails 
of  animals  and  aromatics,  fetish  images  and  such- 
like valuable  matters. 

The  aromatics  are  thrown  on  the  fire,  and  with 
deafening  shouts  and  singing  the  priests  now 
commence  their  incantations  and  to  work  their 
spells.  They  whirl  round,  jump  about,  dance 
and  stamp,  fume  and  rage,  among  the  furniture, 
without  knocking  anything  over,  without  falling, 
until  at  last  both  rush  out  of  the  door  and  disappear 
in  the  darkness. 

In  solemn  state  they  return  ;  they  have  captured 
the  spirits  and  are  now  themselves  demons.  One 
of  them  sits  down  on  a  low  stool,  twisting  and 
turning  himself  and  shaking  his  head  as  if  he 


PRIMITIVE  MYSTICISM 


23 


would  shake  it  off,  until  he  becomes  rigid  ;  deep 
silence  reigns  around.  Suddenly  one  hears, 
coming  as  from  a  distance,  a  thin,  piping  voice  ; 
that  is  the  voice  of  the  spirit  in  the  ganga  asking 
what  they  want  of  him.  All  answer  in  chorus, 
and  the  sufferer's  complaint  is  fully  described. 
Before  the  answer  can  come,  more  dances  and 
antics  have  to  be  performed.  The  one  ganga 
leaps  about  wildly,  the  other,  the  one  who  is 
sitting  down,  swinging  his  arms  when  the  dancing 
one  throws  his  legs  about.  A  third  arrives,  who 
quicklj^  paints  himself,  jumps  on  to  the  fire,  and 
whirls  and  dances  round,  as  if  he  were  a  blazing 
flame,  or  the  fire-god  himself.  The  other  dancing 
ganga  ties  charms  all  round  his  body,  and  whirls 
and  twists  until  he  looks  like  one  huge  fetish. 
Now  at  last  all  the  gods  are  collected  at  the  sick 
man's  bedside,  and  give  the  important  information 
that  his  illness  is  caused  by  his  having  broken  a 
family  fast,  called  quixilles — a  diagnosis,  however, 
which  a  closer  analysis  proves  to  be  false.  The 
same  ceremonies  have  therefore  again  to  be  gone 
through  on  the  next  day,  and  only  after  the  chief 
of  the  gangas  is  completely  beyond  himself,  and 
has  been  decked  with  a  feather  cap  of  towering 
height,  in  which  the  god  is  supposed  to  be 
seated,  he  declares  that  the  illness  is  not  due 
to  quixilles,  but  is  caused  by  chimhinde.  This  is 
worse,  for  it  means  that  the  ghost  of  a  factory 


24 


MYSTICISM 


man,  lately  dead,  has  got  into  the  sick  man's 
brain. 

Thus  far  Bastian,  who  was  an  eye-witness  of 
the  whole  performance  (Deutsche  Expedition  an 
der  Loango  Kuste,  Jena,  1875).  The  same 
thing  is  found  everywhere  throughout  the  world 
where  breeches  are  not  worn,  for,  as  is  well 
known  in  our  days,  civilisation  begins  with  the 
adoption  of  this  most  necessary  article  of  clothing. 
Yet  even  among  the  decently  clothed  in  China, 
Persia,  and  Turkey,  these  leaping  and  dancing 
performances  for  drawing  near  to  the  gods  are 
exercised.  They  are  the  first  step  on  the  road  of 
mysticism,  and  often,  alas !  too  often,  its  devotees 
fall  back  to  this  primitive  stage,  where  they  have 
learnt  to  climb  up  to  more  elevated  heights. 

Stupefying  with  tobacco  smoke  is  a  sacred 
usage  among  the  American  Indians.  When  the 
Copenhagen  University  students  sing  in  their 
smoking  song  :  Graviter  fumando  vir  Jovis  fit 
sodalis,  inter  vasta  nubila  requiescit  talis— they 
perhaps  scarcely  realise  that  there  are  people  in 
this  world  to  whom  these  words  are  solemn  earnest, 
and  who,  through  the  blue  tobacco  clouds,  com- 
mune with  the  gods.  Of  course  the  narcotic 
which  the  Indian  draws  from  his  pipe  or  his  cigar 
is  a  good  deal  stronger  than  that  inhaled  by  a 
modern  smoker,  and  the  Indian  swallows  the 
smoke  until  it  makes  him  giddy,  and  the  con- 


PRIMITIVE  MYSTICISM 


25 


sequences  are  as  serious  as  if  he  had  had  opium 
instead  of  tobacco  in  his  pipe.     Intoxication  by 
smoking   is   well   known   among    many   nations. 
The  same  negroes  whose  grotesque  dancing  feast 
we  have  just  considered,  smoke  hemp  leaves — 
which   they  call  liamba — to  prepare  themselves 
for   the   ceremony.     And   the   Turks   and   other 
Orientals  find  their  highest  state  of  ecstatic  bhss 
in  hemp  poison,  hashish.     The  Brazilian  medicine- 
man treats  his  patients  preferably  with  tobacco. 
He  smokes  the  tobacco  and  envelops  his  patient 
in  a  cloud  of  smoke  while  he  administers  a  kind 
of  massage,  kneading  him  so  vigorously  that  his 
roars  are  heard  all  over  the  village — that  is  to 
say,  the  roars  of  the  doctor,  not  of  the  sick  man. 
For  it  is  the  doctor  who  is  the  suffering  party  at 
these  operations.     The  narcotic  has  brought  him 
into  such  a  state  of  frenzy  that  he  is  like  a  wolf, 
bear,  and  jaguar  in  one— quite  beyond  himself. 
Moreover,  from  what  we  know  of  the  primitive 
art  of  healing,  it  is  quite  natural  that  the  doctor 
and  not  the  patient  should    take  the  medicine. 
The   remedy   is   only   intended    to   convoke   the 
supernatural  forces,  and  the  true   medicine  man 
studies  medicine  in  a  most    remarkable  manner, 
by    taking    poison— hke    the    Pontic    Monarch— 
until  no  poison  can  do  him  any  more  harm.     If 
he  is  to  practise  he  must  be  able  to  swallow  poison 
to  an   amount   which   would   kill   any    ordinary 


26 


MYSTICISM 


human  creature,  in  order  to  convey  the  impression 
that  humanity  in  him  is  dead,  and  that  in  his 
intoxicated  condition  he  can  change  into  another 
existence  and  become  either  a  god  or  a  demon 
in  human  shape.  (Examples  of  this  are  given  in 
Th.  AcheUs's  book — Die  Extase.     BerUn,  1902.) 

And  so  mysticism  always  leads  to  the  same  end, 
as  long  as  religion  occupies  an  animistic  standpoint, 
i.e.  as  long  as  it  consists  in  regarding  the  spirits 
of  the  departed,  or  the  lower  air-spirits,  as  their 
gods.  The  method  is  as  simple  as  the  belief. 
All  that  is  evil  is  "  being  possessed  of  evil  spirits," 
and  can  only  be  cured  by  the  casting  out  of  the 
spirits.  Evil  must  be  destroyed  by  evil,  and  he 
who  wants  to  fight  with  demons  must  first  himself 
become  a  demon.  And  this  can  only  be  done 
by  getting  outside  of  self,  by  being  beyond 
oneself,  as  in  madness  or  frenzy.  Therefore  the 
question  is  to  find  means  by  which  sense  and 
reason  can  thus  be  lost,  and  these  are  not  far  to 
seek.  The  animistic  person  also  never  attains 
beyond  this  stage  of  ecstasy.  It  is  his  ladder  of 
ascent  into  the  heavenlies  ;  he  knows  no  other, 
and  only  in  so  far  as  his  ascent  is  fraught  with 
pain  and  difficulty,  be  it  for  obtaining  his  dignity 
or  in  the  exercise  of  his  profession,  only  in  so  far 
can  there  be  question  of  asceticism,  or  indeed  of 
any  approach  to  a  moral  action.  When  culture 
comes  to  such  a  people,   these  crude  methods 


PRIMITIVE  MYSTICISM 


27 


suffice  no  longer.  What  is  sacred  becomes  more 
exalted  ;  the  ghostly  dances  disappear,  a  circle 
of  divinities  is  conceived,  and  he  who  desires  to 
enter  there,  and  himself  become  a  god,  is  well 
aware  that  he  can  neither  smoke,  nor  dance,  nor 
sweat  himself  into  it. 


II.  CHINESE  MYSTICISM 


Let  us  next  consider  mysticism  on  the  ancient 

cultural  soil  of  China. 

In  this  land,  where  the  temperament  of  the  people 

is  absolutely  opposed  to  anything  of  a  mystical 

nature,  in  the  midst  of  a  practical,  intelligent, 

industrious  population,  whose  religion  is  morality, 

mysticism    made   its   appearance,   fully  matured 

and  self-conscious,  about  the  same  time  that  the 

apostle  of  morality,  Kong-tse,^  systematised  the 

Chinese  code  of  moral  law.     The  "  obscure  sage," 

as  Laotse  was  called,  understood  the  art  of  living 

in  seclusion  so  thoroughly  that  we  hardly  know 

anything  about  him,  except  that  he  was  archivist 

to  one  of  the  kings  of  the  Choy  dynasty,  and  at  a 

very  high  age  was  sent  into  exile.     Before  quitting 

his  fatherland,  one  of  the  governors  on  the  western 

frontier  is  said  to  have  persuaded  the  celebrated 

sage  to  write  a  book  on  the  tenets  of  his  philosophy. 

This  book,  called  Tao-te-King,  is  very  ambiguous. 

It  may  be  said  to  be  the  first  Chinese  attempt 

at  systematic  writing,  and  moreover  of  a  highly 

^  Better  known  to  us  by  the  Latin  name  of  Confucius. 

3a 


CHINESE  MYSTICISM 


29 


speculative  character.  But,  in  spite  of  the  heavi- 
ness of  the  form,  one  gets  occasional  glimpses  of  a 
far-reaching,  idealistic,  and  spiritual  depth,  which 
has  procured  for  the  author  the  fame  of  a  Chinese 
Plato,  and  the  book  moreover  breathes  a  purity 
and  gentleness  of  spirit  which  remind  one  of 
Christian  doctrines. 

All  the  properties  of  true  mysticism  slumber  in 
this  ancient  literary  effusion.  It  would  seem  as  if 
here,  in  the  Far  East,  the  groundwork  had  been 
laid  for  that  which  in  the  subsequent  peregrina- 
tions of  mysticism  should  receive  more  solid  form. 
The  three  chords  which  mysticism  always  strikes, 
namely,  alienation  from  the  world,  the  doing  aw^ay 
with  personality  and  with  self,  reverberate  here 
also,  and  they  sound — and  this  is  the  remarkable 
part  of  it — perfectly  Chinese,  although  constantly 
clashing  with  the  normal  system  of  Confucian 
doctrines,  with  all  its  practical  and  personal 
activity.  Kong-tse  did  not  like  Laotse,  and  could 
not  understand  his  teaching.  He  called  him  "  a 
dragon  soaring  up  to  heaven,"  and  for  his  noble 
principles  he  had  only  ridicule. 

Yet — both  were  China's  sons,  and  both  reverentlv 
lived  up  to  their  sonship.  The  object  of  both  was 
the  establishment  of  the  truest  form  of  state,  the 
wisest  form  of  government,  and  as  regards  the 
people  to  teach  them  their  duty  as  subjects.  But 
the  way  taken  by  Laotse  is  as  widely  different 


30 


MYSTICISM 


from  that  followed  by  Kong-tse  as  the  flight  of  a 
pigeon  differs  from  that  of  a  fowl.  Up  into  the 
highest  heights  he  soars,  and  there  cools  his  ardour 
before  coming  down  again  to  eat  from  the  same 
trough  with  the  other  inhabitants  of  the  courtyard. 
By  speculative  methods  he  arrives  in  the  end  at 
the  same  moral  conclusions  for  which  Kong-tse, 
with  practical  common  sen^e,  made  straightway ; 
but  Laotse  reaches  the  final  goal  a  better  man, 
and  would  have  made  his  people  a  better  people 
than  it  is  now,  if  it  had  not  been  the  fate  of  the 
Chinese  that  Kong-tse's  shoes  fitted  them  better 
than  Laotse's  buskins. 

The  title  alone,  Tao-te-King,  shows  that  in  this 
book  heaven  is  sought  before  the  earth  is  considered. 
Tao,  the  first  of  the  three  words,  means  purely 
grammatically  only  "  path  "  ;  but  this  "  path  " 
designates  the  absolute,  the  highest  wisdom,  the 
Godhead,  or  by  whatever  name  it  be  called — the 
highest,  as  conceived  by  the  mystic,  is  not  so 
easily  adequately  expressed.  Perhaps  it  would  be 
safest  to  say  that  Tao  means  the  ideal  fundamental 
principle,  or  the  ideal  fundamental  object  of  exist- 
ence. The  speculative,  therefore,  is  number  one. 
Second  in  importance  is  te,  worldly  morality,  the 
course  of  life.  King  means  book,  and  the  book 
goes  to  prove  how  our  life  has  been  ordained  by 
the  divine  Tao,  and  how  we  have  to  live  it  accord- 
ing to  ideal  and  exalted  principles.     Religion  is 


CHINESE  MYSTICISM 


31 


not,  as  with  Kong-tse,  an  appendix  to  morality, 
but  an  important  stipulation  for  moral  conduct. 

The  only  thing  that  is  clearly  and  definitely 
stated  about  Tao  is  that  it  is  altogether  indefinable, 
indescribable,  and  inexpressible,  a  truly  mystic 
conception.  If  "  Godhead  "  be  substituted  for 
Tao,  we  have  to  bear  in  mind  that  it  is  never  a 
personal  God  one  has  to  think  of.  It  is  a  principle, 
abstract  and  inscrutable.  '*  Something  exists  " — 
so  it  says  in  the  Tao-te-King  (chapter  25) — "  which 
is  incomprehensible,  which  is  perfect,  and  which 
existed  before  heaven  and  earth  were.  It  is 
silent,  and  without  shape  ;  it  is  the  only  thing 
inviolable,  without  change  or  variableness.  It 
pervades  all  places.  One  might  call  it  the  mother 
of  all  things.  Its  name  I  know  not,  but  I  call  it 
Tao.  Were  I  to  give  it  yet  another  name,  I  should 
call  it '  The  Great,'  The  laws  of  men  are  from  the 
earth,  the  laws  of  the  earth  are  from  heaven,  the 
laws  of  heaven  are  from  Tao." 

Is  this  God  or  is  it  nature  ?  If  nature,  then  at 
all  events  a  spiritualised  nature,  or  the  spirit  of 
nature  after  the  manner  of  pantheistic  belief. 
Laotse  is  perfectly  genuine  in  his  mysticism, 
although  in  reality  a  pantheist,  as  good  as  any,  in 
that  he  believes  the  deity  to  be  a  something  which 
is  in  all  things.  And  to  the  Chinese  mind,  ac- 
customed to  worship  "  heaven  "  as  the  highest, 
all-controlling  will,  this  thought  would  not  seem 


32 


MYSTICISM 


unfamiliar.  But  Laotse  emphatically  rejects  the 
naturalistic  view  here  implied,  and  makes  his 
Tao  something  more  spiritual,  therefore  more 
exalted,  than  the  heaven  of  the  State  religion. 

The  manner  in  which  Tao  expresses  itself  varies 
also  considerably  from  the  ordinary  Chinese 
methods.  In  this  land  of  commanding  and  obey- 
ing, where  the  upper  classes  order  and  the  lower 
cringingly  submit,  a  sage  appears,  proclaiming 
a  condition  of  things  in  which  there  is  neither 
commanding  nor  obeying.  He  preaches  a  constitu- 
tion of  the  world  based  on  free  will,  a  God  who 
will  not  be  honoured  for  his  own  sake,  a  duty 
that  is  to  be  performed  for  its  own  sake  only. 

Laotse  seems  to  have  come  to  this  conclusion, 
this  forward  step,  by  creating  his  world  after  the 
pattern  of  nature.  For  the  ruling  force  in  the 
realm  of  nature  does  not  govern  from  lust  of  power, 
but  because  all  things  of  their  own  accord  put 
themselves  in  subjection  under  it.  Therefore  it 
says  in  the  Tao-te-King,  chapter  51  :  ''All  things 
have  come  forth  from  Tao,  and  are  nourished  out 
of  its  abundance.  All  things  receive  their  form  in 
accordance  with  their  nature,  and  are  perfected 
according  to  their  capacity.  Therefore  all  things 
without  exception  are  Tao,  and  praise  its  manifold 
workings.  But  not  as  by  compulsion,  but  as  a 
voluntary  tribute.  Tao  then  creates  all  things ;  by 
Tao  they  live,  grow,  mature,  are  maintained  and 


CHINESE  MYSTICISM 


33 


protected.  Tao  creates  all  things,  yet  it  does  not 
claim  possession.  Tao  leads  all  things  through  all 
the  stages  of  development,  but  makes  no  boast  of 
its  doings.  Tao  brings  all  things  to  maturity, 
yet  exercises  no  control  over  them.  This  is  its 
mysterious  activity/'  The  involuntariness  of  its 
energy,  the  mystery  of  the  course  of  life  as  reflected 
in  nature,  and  the  protest  of  the  natural  institutions 
against  the  institutions  of  this  world,  with  their 
exaction,  their  coercion,  and  their  ostentation, 
Laotse  expresses  in  these  ambiguous  words : 
''  Tao  is  inactive,  yet  nothing  exists  that  Tao  has 
not  created,'* — which  is  as  much  as  to  say  :  All 
that  happens  is  involuntary,  and  involuntary  all 
things  must  be. 

Yet  even  this  conclusion  is  merely  pantheistic. 
The  mysticism  in  the  system  only  comes  to  light 
when  the  question  is  asked  :  In  what  relation  does 
Tao  stand  to  man  ;  or  rather,  in  what  relation  does 
man  stand  to  Tao.  The  answer  is  briefly  :  We 
must  be  like  Tao  ;  we  must  make  the  law  of  Tao 
our  law,  but  this  we  can  only  do  by  being  imbued 
with  Tao.  Therefore  morality,  te,  form.s  the  second 
portion  of  the  system.  And  the  idea  is  that  where 
Tao  is  realised,  te  necessarily  follows.  Hence 
man's  first  duty  is  to  put  his  soul  in  order,  that  there 
may  be  room  in  it  for  Tao  ;  to  cleanse  it  from  all 
egotism,  and  the  lusts,  passions,  self-will,  avarice, 
and  love  of  power,  resulting  therefrom.     When 


34 


MYSTICISM 


all  these  are  banished,  then  Tao  can  take  immediate 
possession.  Then,  morally,  one  has  become  part 
of  Tao.  "  The  wise  man  sets  himself  in  the  lowest 
place,  and  is  raised  to  the  highest.  He  treats  his 
own  personality  as  if  it  were  a  stranger  to  him,  yet 
he  does  not  lose  sight  of  his  purpose.*'  Is  it  not 
so  ?  By  pursuing  neither  a  personal  nor  a  private 
motive,  the  object  is  attained.  Learn  of  the 
heavens  and  of  the  earth.  Why  is  their  existence 
so  long  ?  Because  they  exist  not  for  themselves. 
Learn  of  the  water,  which  benefits  all,  yet  claims 
nothing  for  itself.  Learn  of  the  woman,  for  she 
is  quiet  and  gentle,  and  therefore  easily  rules  man. 
Like  them,  Tao  is  a  silent  power,  and  all  men  can 
become  Tao. 

However  universally  human  this  philosophy 
may  appear,  one  feels  oneself  nevertheless  on 
Chinese  territory  when  one  begins  to  consider  the 
separate  virtues  which  constitute  te.  There  is  no 
question  of  a  fervid  or  visionary  absorption  into 
the  divine  power,  nor,  in  the  original  code  of 
Taoism — later  it  may  have  been  otherwise — of 
ascetic  self-restraint  or  ecstatic  self-abandonment, 
for  ridding  oneself  of  one's  own  individuality. 
No,  all  the  requirements  bear  the  stamp  of  common 
sense.  The  three  cardinal  virtues  are  goodness, 
economy,  and  modesty.  Kong-tse's  demands  are  of 
a  similar  nature.  Only  these  virtues  have  a  deeper 
meaning  when   Laotse   exacts  them.     For  in  his 


CHINESE  MYSTICISM 


35 


doctrine  about  goodness  the  mystic  goes  so  far  that 
he — like  Christ — makes  goodness  the  indisputable 
standard  for  all  our  actions :  evil  must  be  overcome 
by  good,  good  must  be  returned  for  evil.  "  To  him 
who  is  good  to  me,  I  am  good  likewise  ;  to  him  who 
is  angry  with  me,  I  also  am  good  ;  so  all  will  be 
made  good."  That  this  moral  reflection  is  not 
altogether  Chinese,  we  see  from  Kong-tse's  mocking 
comment :  *'  If  I  am  to  be  good  to  the  evil,  where- 
with then  shall  I  reward  the  good  ?  "  His  maxim 
is  :  "  Goodness  for  the  good,  justice  for  the  evil." 

Modesty  also  is  in  Laotse's  doctrine  more  than 
a  rule  of  wordly  wisdom.  What  he  teaches  is  true 
humihty,  always  with  the  consciousness  that  he 
who  humbleth  himself  shall  be  exalted.  He  com- 
prehends under  modesty  also  that  quiet  reserve 
by  which  one  husbands  one's  strength  and  prolongs 
one's  life  in  proportion  as  the  friction  of  this 
mundane  life  is  escaped  from. 

Here  we  get  in  a  compressed  form  a  foretaste  of 
the  mystic's  life  and  conduct  as  seen  wherever  it  is 
found  exempt  from  ecstasy  and  asceticism.  This 
craving  for  a  life  of  peace  and  purity  is  the  lovable 
side  of  mysticism,  and  it  is  not  by  chance  that  it 
showed  itself  at  an  early  stage  among  the  peace- 
loving  Chinese.  Nor  is  it  chance  that  yet  another 
characteristic  feature  of  the  mystic  stood  out 
sharp  and  clear  on  Chinese  ground,  namely,  the 
despising  of  outward  forms  ;  this,  in  China,  where 


36 


MYSTICISM 


form  is  sacred,  and  all  life  a  ceremony  !  Laotse 
knew  of  things  more  sacred  than  forms,  and  he 
searched  after  another  and  a  better  life  ;  "  Not  the 
life  one  lives,  hut  the  life  which  lives.**  Therefore 
he  broke  with  all  outward  show,  and  did  away  with 
formality.  But  this,  in  the  eyes  of  good  Chinamen, 
is  shocking  profanity,  a  sign  of  want  of  morals  ! 
So  it  is  that  always  the  old  shells  must  break  if  a 
new  shoot  is  to  spring  up  ;  but  nowhere  the  break- 
ing through  has  been  done  more  boldly  than  here 
in  China,  because  the  old  shell  was  so  very  old,  so 
hard,  so  beautiful,  and  so  graceful. 

Nevertheless,  true  Chinaman  as  Laotse  was,  he 
did  not  follow  up  his  theories  to  the  inevitable 
consequence  to  which  a  self-absorbing  and  con- 
templative life  must  lead,  namely,  that  this  life 
must  be  lived  individually.  That  thought  is  not 
attractive  to  the  Mongol  mind,  for  the  Mongols 
are  sociably  inclined,  and  the  Chinese  in  particular. 
They  are  only  members  of  the  body  of  the  State, 
only  children  of  one  large  family.  Therefore 
Laotse's  moral  teaching  as  well  as  Kong-tse's 
results  in  political  ideals.  Unity  and  the  public 
welfare  is  their  final  aim ;  but  it  is  not  attained, 
as  in  the  theories  of  rationalism,  by  a  voluntary 
co-operation  of  enlightened  men,  or  by  fraternisa- 
tion in  the  common  pursuits  of  life.  No,  if  Tao 
is  to  come  to  full  realisation  among  men,  one 
must  stand  at  the  head,  one  who  knows  the  "  way  " 


CHINESE  MYSTICISM 


37 


and  can  lead  the  people.     Laotse  imagines  this 
wise  man  to  be  a  great  sovereign,  who  knows  how 
to  rule  because  he  knows  that  he  is  in  unison 
with  Tao.     This  sovereign  is  to  rule  with  generosity 
and  without  thought  of  self,  like  Tao  ;    of  their 
own  free  will  his  subjects  shall  serve  him,  because 
he  lets  the  influence  of  Tao  pass  over  them.     For 
where  Tao  is  effectively  present,  all  fit  into  their 
proper   places;    even  the   animals   then  become 
willingly  submissive   to   the   peace-loving   ruler. 
All  things  in  this  State  are  done  without  coercion, 
war  and  sentence  of  death  are  done  awav  with, 
pure  and  generous  customs  will  be  seen  among 
the  people,  the  ruler's  wisdom  and  example  will 
educate  them  up  to  these.     But  if  his  people  are 
to  trust  him  implicitly,  if  they  are  to  be  satisfied 
with  their  lot,  then,  says  Laotse,  they  must  not 
be  too  much  enlightened  in  worldly  matters. 

And  in  this  statement  the  mystic  again  betrays 
himself.  It  is  not  the  absolutist  but  the  obscurant 
who  speaks.  The  gospel  of  ignorance  has  often 
enough  been  preached  by  mystic  lips.  One  thing 
only  is  necessary,  and  that  is  the  inner  light, 
which  in  China  shines  forth  from  above,  radiates 
from  the  person  of  the  Emperor,  in  so  far  as  he 
is  the  son  of  heaven,  and  interprets  the  will  of 
heaven  to  the  people— an  old  doctrine.  Only 
what  in  the  State  religion  was  a  myth,  and  in 
astrology  a  cult,  becomes  in  the  occult  science  of 


3« 


MYSTICISM 


Taoism  an  inner  worth,  philosophic  piety  and 
morality.  The  highest  comes  from  above  but 
at  the  same  time  from  within,  and  the  law  which 
all  must  obey  is  written  in  the  heart. 

This  is  Taoism.  Nothing  more  beautiful  has 
ever  been  conceived  on  ancient  heathen  soil, 
and  therefore  nothing  is  so  sad  as  the  fate  of 
Taoism. 

Still— in  its  peculiar,  sad  way.  Tao  has  prevailed. 
It  permeates  the  whole  nation,  it  is  practically 
the  vital  strength  of  its  existence.  We  see  this 
from  the  fact  that  Confucianism  has  during  all 
the  past  ages  been  tinged  with  Taoism.  The  divine 
will  moves  like  a  mystic  power  among  the  worldly 
institutions  of  State  philosophy,  and  the  inter- 
cessors between  heaven  and  earth  which  are 
found  in  heathen  mythology  as  well  as  in  Christian 
worship  are  the  means  by  which  the  transition 
from  the  ideal  to  the  real  is  effected. 

Side  by  side  with  true  Taoism  there  runs  a 
stream  of  lower  order,  which  in  China  meets  us 
at  every  end  and  turn.  Favoured  or  disfavoured 
by  time.  Tao  has  degenerated  into  witchcraft, 
into  a  magic  power  which  is  practised  by  pro- 
fessional, wandering  priests.  From  them  one  can 
buy  Tao  for  a  trifle,  and  be  filled  with  strength 
which  drives  away  toothache,  ghosts,  vermin,  and 
creditors.  For  this  is  the  reverse  side  of  all 
mysticism,  that  it  makes  God  into  a  power,  and 


CHINESE  MYSTICISM 


39 


lile  in  God  into  an  absorption  of  divine  pov/er. 
Thus  it  practically  becomes  mesmerism.  And 
the  inner  life,  the  chief  object  to  be  attained, 
becomes  an  outward  show,  quite  as  prominent 
as  the  external  life  one  is  trying  to  subdue. 
Liberty  of  thought  thus  degenerates  into  thought- 
lessness, and  unrestrained  morality  into  wanton- 
ness.-—How  often  has  this  not  been  seen  where 
the  motions  of  the  human  heart  have  been  allowed 
free  course  ?— and  this  has  been  the  fate  of  Chinese 
mysticism. 

No  garden  gave  it  sheltering  care,  therefore  it 
now  grows  like  a  weed  in  the  field. 


INDIAN  MYSTICISM 


4^ 


III.  INDIAN  MYSTICISM 

In  India,  where  all  things  grow  luxuriantly  and 
vigorously,  the  growth  of  mysticism  has  also 
been  most  luxuriant  and  lasting.  As  far  back  as 
research  can  reach,  the  germs  of  mysticism  are 
found  everywhere ;  and  up  to  the  present  day  it 
still  flourishes  there,  so  much  so  that  the  people 
returning  home  from  India  carry  the  seeds  of  it 
back  with  them  in  their  clothes.  But  as  are  the 
people  of  India  so  also  is  their  mysticism  :  a 
mysticism  of  meditation  and  of  renunciation.  For 
the  Hindus,  although  our  kinsmen  in  descent, 
language,  and  disposition,  have  become  a  meditative, 
passive,  and  resigned  race.  There  have  been  times 
when  they  were  heroes  ;  there  have  been  times 
when  they  subjected  the  earth,  and  drew  from  it 
the  wealth  of  India.  But  there  has  also  come  a 
time  when  these  cultivators  of  the  rich  soil,  in  the 
midst  of  their  tropical  wealth,  sank  into  inactivity, 
and — where  the  hand  refused  its  service,  specula- 
tion became  rife  and  mysticism  flourished. 

The  mysticism  of  the  Hindus  did  not  originate 

in  philosophy,  any  more  than  their  religion  from 

40 


the  first  was  a  philosophical  religion.  The  be- 
ginning was  adoration,  worship,  and  therein  the 
earliest  elements  of  mysticism  are  to  be  found. 
In  his  description  of  Brahman  sacrifices.  Oldenberg 
(Rel.  of  the  Veda,  p.  326)  goes  fully  into  the  matter 
of  the  mystical  virtues  supposed  to  be  contained 
therein.  The  more  important  Hindu  sacrifices 
have  at  all  times  included  the  participation 
of  the  food  offered.  This  custom,  which  also 
prevails  among  the  Semitic  races,  has  for  these 
latter  been  explained  by  Robertson  Smith,  as 
expressive  of  a  longing  for  union  with  the  divinity, 
a  kind  of  fellowship,  and  eating  and  drinking 
together  in  consolidation  of  the  compact.  This 
view  and  these  practices  greatly  furthered  mysti- 
cism among  them,  but  this  was  not  the  train  of 
thought  followed  by  the  Hindus. 

The  offerings  made  to  the  old  Hindu  deities  were 
solely  for  the  purpose  of  purchasing  the  good  things 
of  this  life,  and  only  the  crumbs  falling  from  the 
table  of  the  god  were  the  portion  of  man.  But 
these  crumbs  are  of  extraordinary  weight,  and 
possess  mysterious  power.  For  that  of  which 
the  deity  has  partaken  has,  by  reason  of  the  divine 
proximity,  become  filled  with  divine  potency,  and 
the  remnants  of  the  feast  are  thus  converted 
into  elements  of  a  higher  order.  That  these 
rest  are  unsafe  even  to  touch  is  a  widespread 
belief,   and  only  the   initiated  or  those  ritually 


•ii 


4^ 


MYSTICISM 


qualified  thereto  can  without  risk  partake  thereof ; 
for  them  indeed  they  possess  great  medicinal 
virtue.  Worthy  to  eat  and  drink  of  the  offering 
are  the  officiating  priest  and  the  *'  Sacrificer " 
or  donor  of  the  sacrifice,  the  person  who  pays  for 
it,  together  with  his  household.  His  wife  partakes 
of  the  sacrifice  offered  to  the  departed  ancestors 
in  order  that  she  may  be  blest  with  male  issue,  and 
any  of  the  family  suffering  from  any  lingering 
disease  also  receive  a  morsel.  When  a  candidate 
for  the  priesthood  is  admitted  into  the  house  of 
a  Brahman,  a  small  portion  of  the  sacrificial  food 
is  given  to  him,  with  the  w^ords  :  *'  May  Agni  "  (the 
god  of  fire  and  of  the  priesthood)  "  give  thee  wisdom.'* 
Very  telling  also  are  the  marriage  customs.  When 
the  bridegroom  enters  his  house  he  divides  the 
sacrificial  food  with  his  bride,  saying  these  words : 
"With  this  food,  the  bond  of  life,  the  bright 
and  varied  thread,  the  knots  of  which  are  truth, 
I  bind  thy  heart  and  thy  spirit.  Thy  heart  shall 
be  my  heart  and  my  heart  shall  be  thy  heart. 
Food  is  the  bond  of  life,  with  it  I  bind  thee."  This 
is  sorcery,  but  it  is  also  mysticism.  The  union]of 
the  young  couple  is  symbolised  by  the  joint- 
participation  of  the  mystical,  i.e.  the  sacrificial 
food,  filled  with  the  divine  substance. 

The  same  mystical  efficacy  must  be  attributed 
to  the  libation,  the  drink-offering.  Soma.  This 
also  was  a  powerful  curative,  a  life-elixir,  and  no 


INDIAN  MYSTICISM 


43 


doubt,  originally,  a  draught  of  immortality,  the 
same  as  it  has  always  been  for  the  Persians.  In 
the  Hindu  sacrifice  it  served  primarily  as  a  bait 
for  the  gods.  But  a  glimmering  of  the  original 
idea  of  the  Soma-offering  is  found  in  the  fact  that 
the  Brahman  himself  drinks  of  the  Soma,  doubt- 
less in  order  that  he  may  thereby  be  filled  with 
divine  power.  This  power,  however,  could  scarcely 
be  attributed  to  the  Soma  in  its  character  as  the 
dregs  of  the  cup  of  the  gods,  but  must  rather  be 
looked  upon  as  a  survival  of  its  primitive  magic 
charm,  which  is  beUeved  to  lift  the  Brahman  by 
intoxication  into  those  divine  realms  whence  he 
draws  his  sanctity.  Here  we  have  then,  in  the 
very  midst  of  the  highly  developed  Hindu  ritual, 
a  bit  of  Shamanism,  and  we  realise  that  the  refined 
Hindu  is  not  too  refined  to  indulge  in  some  of  the 
crude  negro  or  old  Indian  customs  expressive  of 
the  lowest  form  of  mysticism,  even  if  in  their 
sacrificial  rites  these  occupy  but  a  subordinate 
place. 

Thus  there  is  in  Hindu  mysticism  a  background 
—if  not  an  immediately  influential  one— of  sacra- 
mental mysticism  in  the  sacrifice,  and  of  ritualistic 
mysticism  in  the  priesthood,  but  its  real  develop- 
ment is  found  where  ritual  is  superseded  by 
speculation.  The  Ufe  of  the  Hindu  priest  was 
divided  into  two  periods  :  from  the  completion  of 
his  studies  as  scholar,  to  his  service  at  the  altar 


4  i 


\ 


^  i 


44 


MYSTICISM 


INDIAN  MYSTICISM 


45 


as  priest  ;  and  from  there  to  a  life  of  seclusion  and 
religious  meditation.  What  Rudyard  Kipling  tells 
us  of  these  hermit-priests  living  in  forests,  coin- 
cides exactly  with  what  Kalidasa  describes  in  his 
Sakuntala.  Sometimes  they  live  in  companies, 
but  more  often  in  absolute  solitude,  the  latter 
years  of  their  life  being  spent  in  strict  self-denial 
and  heavy  penances.  Originally  this  was  a  device 
for  getting  lid  of  the  old  people,  but  the  decree 
very  soon  passed  into  a  link  of  the  priestly  Ordo 
Salutis,  and  the  old  folks  were  not  so  weakened 
with  age  that  they  did  not  take  advantage  of  the 
situation,  and  converted  the  compulsory  period 
of  old  age  meditation  into  the  recognised  road  to 
salvation.  Two  roads  were  open  to  attain  salvation  : 
the  road  of  action  (Karmamarga),  which  they  had 
walked  during  their  time  of  ministry  at  the  altar, 
and  the  road  of  knowledge  {jnanamarga)  which 
they  would  now  follow.  And  it  was  easy  to  see 
that  this  latter  was  the  higher  one.  Their  whole 
life  long  they  had  been  the  slaves  of  the  gods. 
For  twenty  years  they  had  learned  Veda-hymns 
by  heart,  and  for  another  thirty  years  they  had 
recited  them.  A  thousand  times  thev  had  brewed 
the  sacred  drink  and  poured  it  on  the  altar 
flames,  had  killed  goats  and  antelopes,  had 
chanted  and  muttered  and  exorcised  spirits  ;  and 
yet — as  concerns  their  spiritual  welfare — they  were 
no  further  than  at  the  beginning  of  their  career. 


After  all,  can  these  gods  save  me  ?  Indra,  the 
chief  of  the  gods,  who  is  always  thirsty,  always 
quarrelsome,  who  is  always  doing  foolish  things, 
and  is,  moreover,  henpecked  ?  Varuna,  the  king 
of  justice,  who  is  always  on  the  watch,  and  punishes 
us  for  sins  we  have  never  committed  ?  Usha,  the 
virgin  queen  of  the  morning,  who  goes  about  half- 
naked  in  search  of  a  lover ;  and  Rudra,  the  black- 
blue  devil,  who  pierces  us  with  the  arrow  of  death  ? 
East  and  west,  gods  everywhere,  and  all  want  to 
be  supreme.  Always  the  one  to  whom  the  sac- 
rifice is  made  has  to  be  assured  that  he  alone  is 
the  mighty  One,  that  he  is  the  only  One.  Who 
is  the  mighty  One  ;  who  is  the  only  One  ?  There 
can  be  but  one.  Or,  more  correctly,  one  only  can 
be  the  One  :  the  spiritual  element  which  animates 
all  the  gods,  that  divine  power  which  makes  them 
into  gods,  that  magic  power  which  gives  them 
their  potency,  the  breath  which  has  given  them 
life.  That  magic  power  is  called  Brahma  ;  it  was 
the  name  given  to  the  mysterious  power  of  prayer 
which  all  the  gods  must  yield  to.  Breath  is  called 
Atman,  and  these  two  words,  Brahma  and  Atman, 
now  became  the  name  for  the  divine  principle. 

The  way  leading  to  this  divinity,  however,  was 
different  to  the  one  whereby  the  old  gods  were 
approached.  Since  it  was  by  thought  alone  that 
he  could  be  apprehended,  it  is  clear  that  by 
thought  alone  one  can  get  access  to  him.     Having 


ii 


46 


MYSTICISM 


formed  a  conception  of  him  in  one's  own  mind, 
one  possesses  him  for  oneself  alone  ;  and  they  only 
who  can  so  conceive  or  grasp  him  can  hold  com- 
munion with  him.  Therefore  the  road  of  know- 
ledge alone  is  of  any  avail.  Every  theologian  has 
learned  to  distinguish  between  theosophy  and 
mysticism  :  the  theosophist,  it  is  said,  loses  himself 
in  the  conception  of  God,  the  mystic  in  his  relation 
towards  God.  How  little  this  supposed  difference 
holds  good  we  see  in  Hindu  mysticism.  For  Hindu 
mysticism  recognises  no  other  way  for  entering 
into  relation  with  God  than  that  of  losing  oneself 
in  the  conception  of  God  ;  as  soon  as  God  is  fully 
apprehended,  the  relation  with  God  is  also 
established. 

And  with  what  spiritual  energy  these  old  Hindu 
priests  have  penetrated  into  the  mystery  of  the 
Godhead,  how  deep  has  become  their  conception 
of  God  since  first  they  began  to  meditate  upon  it ! 
*'  Deep  *'  is  the  Hindu  meaning  for  spiritual ;  and 
spiritual  is  in  the  first  place  uncorporeal.  Not  an 
atom  of  what  we  call  material  may  be  left  in  the 
Brahman ;  even  his  spirit  must  be  active  without 
the  help  of  bodily  organs;  "  he  sees  without  eyes 
and  hears  without  ears,  he  speaks  not  in  words,  he 
even  thinks  without  thoughts  and  breathes  without 
drawing  breath."  Notwithstanding  this  latter 
subtle  accomplishment,  the  Hindus  call  their  god 
Atman  (which  means  breath),  not  only  because  this 


INDIAN  MYSTICISM 


47 


is  the  most  uncorporeal  designation  they  can  find 
for  him,  but  also  because,  hke  the  breath  which  is 
the  sign  of  hfe,  or,  according  to  the  Hindu  belief, 
life  itself,  he  animates  all  that  lives  and  breathes, 
even  dead  nature. 

Being  uncorporeal  he  is  also  free  from  all  bodily 
emotions,  impressions,  and  conditions.  "  He  feels 
neither  sorrow,  nor  hunger,  nor  thirst,  he  can 
neither  change  nor  die,  he  is  exempt  from  all  evil." 
But  as  he  so  divests  himself  of  his  body  he  also  puts 
aside  that  of  which  the  body  should  be  the  expres- 
sion, his  personality.  "Personality"  is,  to  the 
Hindu  mind,  limitation,  and  in  God  there  can  be 
no  limitation.  Further  still,  this  diving  into  the 
abstract  is  carried.  In  God  there  may  not  even 
be  consciousness,  for  he  who  is  conscious  of  any- 
thing, stands  with  his  consciousness  opposite  to 
this  thing,  but  outside  of  the  Godhead  there  is 
nothing  that  can  be  placed  over  against  it.  It 
stands  to  reason  that  no  qualities  can  be  attributed 
to  this  God,  for  qualities  necessarily  imply  parts 
of  a  being,  and  the  Deity  has  no  parts.  Therefore 
also  this  being  cannot  be  defined  any  closer ;  one 
cannot  say  it  is  so  or  so,  the  only  thing  one  can 
say  is  that  it  is  neither  so  nor  so  (na  iti  na  iti). 

But  by  taking  thus  everything  away  from 
Brahma,  does  he  not  himself  become  nothing  ? 
No,  on  the  contrary,  says  the  Hindu,  he  becomes 
all  in  all.     Just  because  in  the  widest  sense  of  the 


48 


MYSTICISM 


word  he  is  everything,  therefore  nothing  can  be 
said  of  him  in  detail.  Because  he  is  infinite  we 
cannot  clothe  him  with  any  finite  attributes.  The 
corporeal  also  is  comprehended  in  him,  although 
he  himself  has  nothing  in  common  with  corporeal 
things.  All  things  flow  from  him  and  all  things 
return  to  him  ;  he  is  the  beginning  and  the  end. 
Nay,  what  is  more,  he  is  the  only  reality,  the  only 
eternal  existence.  All  that  is  material  is  perish- 
able, he  alone,  the  pure  spirit,  is  imperishable  ; 
what  we  see  with  our  eyes  is  vain  and  changeable, 
he  alone  is  unchangeable.  And  so  on  and  on 
the  Hindu  argues  until  we  become  dizzy.  What 
we  call  the  realities  of  life,  he  calls  shadows,  vanity, 
and  deception  (maya) ;  what  we  are  often  tempted 
to  call  an  illusion,  an  ideal,  is  for  the  Hindu  the 
only  reality.  And  things  only  become  real  when 
they  are  meditated  upon  as  emanating  from  and 
resting  on  their  ideal.  Emanating  from  it  not  as 
by  creation  by  a  personal  god,  but  coming  forth 
out  of  Brahma,  immediately,  as  the  spark  springs 
from  the  flame,  as  vapour  rises  up  from  the  sea, 
or  as  the  rain  drops  down  from  the  cloud. 

Now,  if  all  things  emanate  from  Brahma,  you  and 
I  are  also  out  of  him  ;  if  he  is  all,  he  is  also  you  and 
me  ;  if  he  is  the  breath  of  the  universe,  he  is  also 
that  which  breathes  and  lives  in  you  and  in  me. 

This  is  the  last  thought  in  this  chain  of  medita- 
tion, and  upon  which  all  depends.  This  is  the  saving 


.rm 


INDIAN  MYSTICISM 


49 


power.  Canst  thou  think  of  thyself  as  a  spark 
springing  from  the  celestial  fire  and  sinking  back 
again  into  it  ?  Canst  thou  feel  thyself  as  a  drop 
rising  out  of  the  heavenly  ocean  and  falling  back 
again  into  its  bosom  ?  Canst  thou  apply  to  thyself 
the  potent  word,  tat  tvam  asi,  '*  this  is  thou,"  or 
brahmo  'mi,  *'  I  am  Brahma,"  then  thou  art  blessed, 
then  thou  art  saved,  freed  from  all  finiteness,  from 
birth  and  death  and  new  birth,  for  then  thou  hast 
realised  that  thine  own  being  is  like  Atman's  :  sat- 
cit-ananda,  pure  existence,  thought,  infinity. 

That  this  solution  can  only  be  attained  by  the 
way  of  meditation  is  clear  enough.  Insight  is  what 
is  needed,  and  Brahma,  thus  thought  out,  is  medita- 
tion. "  Even  as  a  lump  of  salt  is  only  a  condensed 
mass  of  savour,  so  this  divine  being  is  a  condensed 
mass  of  meditation."  Hence  the  philosophical 
pride  of  the  Hindu  recluses.  Crude  knowledge,  of 
which  ordinary  people  boast,  is  only  a  knowledge 
of  external  things  which  at  bottom  is  ignorance, 
lack  of  knowledge.  It  is  only  like  playing  with 
the  outer  shell,  but  the  immortal  kernel  has  never 
been  reached.  With  all  one's  knowledge  one 
remains  subject  to  birth  and  death.  Therefore 
it  is  said  : — 


"Joyless  indeed  are  these  dim  worlds. 
Covered  with  darkness  ; 
There  all  are  going  to  Death 
Who  are  not  enlightened  by  knowledge. 


50  MYSTICISM 

But  who  has  grasped  the  Atman 
Being  conscious  :  *  I  am  He  1  ' 
■  Why  should  he  cUng  to  his  body  ? 

What  will  he  desire  ?    Whose  favour  win  ?  " 

And  therefore  the  Brahman  says  to  his  pupil  :— 

"Nay,  widely  different  and  opposite 
Is  what  is  called  '  Knowing '— '  Not  Knowing  ' 
Look  Naciketas  striving  hard  for  knowledge  1 
The  crowd  cf  sinful  lusts  cannot  confound  him. 

But  in  Not  Knowing's  gloomy  depths  are  groping 
Those  fancying  themselves  wise  men,  great  scholars; 
Thus  always  to  and  fro  the  fools  are  running 
Like  blind  men  led  by  leaders  bhnd." 

Soon,  however,  it  was  realised  that  it  could 
not  be  done  by  means  of  ordinary  meditation 
alone.  For  that  which  has  no  attributes  and 
cannot  be  defined,  how  can  it  be  comprehended 
by  meditation ;  where  has  thought  to  start 
from  ?  And  again,  if  Atman  is  that  which  thinks 
in  me,  how  then  can  the  thinking  in  me  ever 
obtain  a  sight  of  him  ?  No,  it  was  now  said,  one 
cannot  think  oneself  into  him,  only  by  inspiration 
from  himself,  by  gracious  revelation,  can  he  be 
apprehended. 

*'  Not  by  reason  can  Atman  be  laid  hold  of. 
Not  by  intellect  and  much  knowledge  of  Scripture  ; 
Only  they  whom  he  elects  can  comprehend  him, 
To  them  Atman  reveals  himself." 

Or    if    not    by    direct    revelation    of    Atman 
himself,    then    by    a    sudden     inspiration,    dis- 


INDIAN  MYSTICISM 


51 


closing  his  being  without  any  gradual  process  of 
thought : — 

"Not  by  talking,  not  by  thought, 
Not  by  sight  can  he  be  grasped ; 
*  He  is,'  by  this  word  alone. 
And  in  no  other  wise  can  he  be  reached." 

This  new  view  threw  the  old  "  meditation  " 
methods  into  disrepute  : — 

•*  Blind  are  they  who  go  about  in  ignorance. 
But  blinder  still  are   they  whose  knowledge  satisfies 
them." 

Thus  Indian  logic,  austere,  inexorable,  proved 
its  fallacy,  and  we  see  that  what  underlies  it  is, 
after  all,  pure  mysticism,  whose  object  is  to 
grasp  the  incomprehensible,  and  believes  that 
man's  highest  attainment  is  to  become  one  with 
the  incomprehensible.  Knowledge  ends  with 
the  realisation  that  more  than  simple  meditation 
is  required  to  bring  about  this  union,  namely,  a 
special  grace,  a  special  organ,  a  special  state  of 
mind. 

Where  knowledge  failed,  art  stepped  in  :  the 
art  above  all  arts  to  which  the  Hindu  applies  him- 
self most  assiduously,  the  art  of  raising  himself 
above  the  life  of  this  world  by  rapture,  forgetting 
himself  in  ecstasy,  and  producing  this  ecstasy  by 
penances,— the  art  which  in  India  is  known  as 
Yoga.     In  the  word  itself— from   the  same  root 


52  MYSTICISM 

as  the  Latin  word  jungo,  "  to  unite  "-the  mystical 
union    is   expressed.      He   who   practises    Yoga 
binds  himself  to  the  supernatural,  he  binds  his 
thoughts  into  that  one    collective  sense  which 
will  take  him  out  of   the  finite.     Yoga  is  still 
practised  by  Hindu  fakirs  and  by  them  brought 
to  a  state  of  perfection    which  only  too  often 
degenerates  into  jugglery,  and  leads  us  to  believe 
that,  after  all,  the  old  self-restraining  methods 
merely  aspired  at  a  purely  external  control  over 
the  body,  its  needs  and    desires.     To  the  true 
Yogin  (he  who  practises  Yoga),  however,  it  was 
not  merely  a  question  of  subduing  the  body,  but 
rather  of  helping  the  spirit  to  triumph  ;  of  raising 
the  human  Atman    into  union  with  the  divine 
Atman.    Fasting  is  an  excellent  means    to  this 
end,  for  fasting  chastens  the  body   and  inflames 
the' spirit.     Celibacy  follows  as  a    natural  out- 
come, and  strict  solitude  is  a  necessary  stipulation, 
for  the  perfect  repose  of  the  soul.     The    Yoga 
practiser   then   preferably    squats,    huddled     to- 
gether, remaining  immovable  in  the  same  posture, 
staring  at  his  own  body,  his  navel  or  the  tip  of 
his  nose,  until  sense  and  reason  become  confused, 
until  the  external  sight  becomes  dim,  until  through 
this  self-hypnotism  the  internal  light  is  produced. 
"  Breathing  "  is  also  a  favourite  practice  of  these 
ascetics  :  a  very  slow  and  well-controlled  inhaling 
and  exhaling  of  the  breath,  by  which-whether 


INDIAN  MYSTICISM 


53 


from  carbonic  acid  poisoning  of  the  blood  or 
from  other  causes  —  a  particularly  speculative 
state  of  mind  is  produced. 

So,  for  instance,  at  the  commencement  of  the 
play,  The  Toy-Cart,  we  see  the  Brahmans  sitting— 

"Cross-legged,  with  breath  drawn  in. 
With  snakes  coiled  round  their  knees. 
Their  senses  subdued,  freed  from  worldly  thoughts, 
Their  eyes  fixed,  thinking  only  Brahma 
Inself-forgettingworship;  Sambhoo  theGood guard  thee." 

And  in  the  same  manner  this  highest  state  of 
absorption  is  described  at  length  in  the  Bhagavad- 
Gita  (vi.  line  ii  and  foil.  Max  Miiller's  transla- 
tion): —  ; 


"A  devotee  should  constantly  devote  his  self 
to  abstraction,  remaining  in  a  secret  place,  alone, 
with  his  mind  and  self  restrained,  without  ex- 
pectations and  without  belongings.  Fixing  his 
seat  firmly  in  a  clean  place,  not  too  high  nor  too 
low,  and  covered  over  with  a  sheet  of  cloth,  a 
deerskin,  and  blades  of  Kusho-grass— and  there 
seated  on  that  seat,  fixing  his  mind  exclusively 
on  one  point,  with  the  workings  of  the  mind  and 
senses  restrained,  he  should  practise  devotion 
for  purity  and  self.  Holding  his  body,  head,  and 
neck  even  and  unmoved,  remaining  steady  looking 
at  the  tip  of  his  own  nose,  and  not  looking  about 
in  all  directions,  with  a  tranquil  self,  devoid  of 


54  MYSTICISM 

fear  and  adhering  to  the  rules  of  Brahma  pupils, 
\i%  should  restrain  his  mind  and  concentrate  it 
on  me,  and  sit  down  engaged  in  devotion  regarding 
me  as  his  final  goal.  Thus,  constantly  devoting 
his  self  to  abstraction,  a  devotee  whose  mind  is 
restrained  attains  that  tranquillity  which  cul- 
minates in  final  emancipation  and  assimilation 
with  me." 

So  it  was  formerly  and  so  it  is  still.  This  is 
bliss  ;  this  is  salvation  ;  the  Hindu  knows  no 
other.  Religions  change  and  vanish  in  India. 
Brahmanism  gives  way  to  Buddhism,  Buddhism 
in  its  turn  is  supplanted  by  the  various  Hindu 
sects.  Pantheism  becomes  Atheism,  and  Atheism, 
Theism— yet  in  spite  of  all  these  changes  Nirvana 
always  crops  up  as  highest  aim.  Yoga  always  as 
the  only  way  to  it.  The  deity  is  a  concep- 
tion which  has  to  be  apprehended  :  human 
life  is  a  barrier  which  has  to  be  broken  down : 
union  with  God  is  highest  rapture  :   penance,  a 

holy  joy. 

Foreign  religions  have  free  entrance  in  India, 
but  before  they  have  taken  proper  root  they 
become  enervated.  Even  harsh  Islam  grows 
weak  and  mystical  on  Indian  soil,  and  Christianity 
is  for  the  Hindu  contained  in  the  words  which 
in  the  Gospel  according  to  St.  John  are  put  into 
the  mouth  of   Jesus,  with  that  mystic  touch  so 


INDIAN  MYSTICISM 


55 


peculiar  to  its  author  :  "I  and  the  Father  are 
one  "  !  Here  the  Hindu's  heart  beats  faster,  for 
is  not  this  the  old  truth,  which  for  thousands  of 
years  has  been  claimed  by  all  the  religions  of  his 
native  land  ? 

"  Yes,  truly,"  the  Saviour  had  to  say  those 
words,  we  all  must  say  the  same  if  we  would  be 
saved  :   "  God  and  I,  we  are  one  !  " 


IV.  PERSIAN  MYSTICISM 

While  the  Hindu  mortified  his  flesh  and  spun 
the   thread   of   his  Hfe   in   incessant   meditation, 
his  nearest  of  kin  on  the  other  side  of  the  Hindu- 
kush  moved  in  quite  a  different  world  of  thought, 
with  quite  a  different  view  of  hfe.     The  history 
of  the  mighty  Persian  Empire  gives  most  eloquent 
proofs  of  the  courage  and  the  determination  of 
its  people,  of  their  mihtary  prowess,  their  practical 
common    sense,    their    social    stability.     Avesta, 
the  sacred  book  of  the  Persians,  speaks  moreover 
of  their  clear  intellect,  their  earnestness  in  dis- 
tinguishing   between    good    and    evil,    between 
purity   and   impurity,   their   unrelenting   zeal   in 
subduing  the  evil  and  helping  the  good  to  conquer. 
One  would  hardly  suppose  that  among  these 
practical,    intelligent    people,    with    their    clear 
power  of  discernment,  mysticism  could  ever  have 
found  a  fruitful  soil.     And  yet  the  elements  of 
Shamanism  can  be  detected  in  the  old  sacrificial 
rites  of  the  Parsee  priests,  and  in  their  intoxicating 
beverage,    drunk   in   honour   of   the   gods.     The 

Indian  Soma  is  by  the  Magi  called  haoma,  and  the 

56 


PERSIAN  MYSTICISM 


57 


hymn  of  praise,  sung  in  its  honour,  sufficiently 
proves  its  marvellous  efficacy.  Haoma 's  virtue 
increases  as  one  sings  its  praises,  and  he  who 
lauds  it  is  certain  of  victory.  Haoma  brings 
health  and  prosperity  in  home  and  city.  Other 
inebriation  comes  with  anger  and  heavily  armed, 
but  inebriation  through  haoma  brings  light- 
heartedness.  And  he  who  caresses  haoma  as 
a  little  child  will  feel  its  exhilarating  power. 
"  I  come  to  thee,  haoma ;  as  thy  friend  and 
singer  I  come,  for  Ormuz  himself  calls  thy  friends 
and  singers  greater  than  the  angels." 

Thus  the  priests  drank  salvation  to  themselves, 
nor  did  the  supreme  ruler  neglect  the  holy  duties 
of  the  cup,  when  on  New  Year's  Day,  in  royal  state 
and  with  the  crown  on  his  head,  he  pledged  his 
people  in  the  cup,  which  on  that  occasion  was 
filled  with  wine.  The  people  did  not  lag  behind 
in  this  matter  either,  for  there  was  yet  another 
cup,  called  the  Yima-cup,  the  same  that  the  old 
King  Yima,  the  god  of  the  golden  age,  had  drunk 
in  the  garden  of  the  gods.  This  cup  had  gradually 
become  the  people's  drink,  and  its  dregs  were 
found  to  possess  the  same  magic  efficacy,  which 
has  always  been  attributed,  before  as  well  as  after, 
to  the  sparkling  juice  of  the  grape. 

Whether  the  holy  delirium  they  thus  imbibed 
was  of  a  mystical  nature, — as  this  highly  excited 
condition  is  generally  supposed  to  be, — is  difficult 


58 


MYSTICISM 


PERSIAN  MYSTICISM 


59 


to  ascertain,  but  the  popularity  of  this  sacramental 
and  festive  beverage  certainly  enables  us  better 
to  realise  that  even  on  Persian  soil  a  mysticism 
could  be  cultivated  which  centred  in  the  cup, 
and  the  adherents  of  which— like  the  old  haoma 
priests— approached  their  god  as  friends  and 
singers.  Out  of  this  singing  and  drinking  mysti- 
cism has  come  forth  the  beautiful  Persian  poetry 
which  to  this  day  is  sung  by  Eastern  people,  and, 
what  is  more,  re-echoes  in  our  Western  poetry 
from  the  time  that  Goethe  wrote  his  West-Eastern 
Divan,  and  Riickert,  with  more  learning  and  in 
stricter  imitation,  put  Persian  songs  on  German 
lips.  Out  of  Indian  mysticism  evolved  philosophy, 
out  of  Persian  mysticism,  poetry.  Such  widely 
different  results  were  produced  by  the  same  force 
in  two  so  widely  different  nations.  Both,  however, 
have  brought  their  art  to  an  equally  high  degree 
of  perfection. 

The  floods  of  fate  had  to  sweep  mightily  over 
the  Persian  people  ere,  from  the  height  of  their 
political  greatness  and  fearless,  open  fight  for  the 
good  things  of  this  Ufe,  they  could  sink  down 
into  dreaming  and  poetical  mysticism.  Their 
national  independence,  their  ancestral  faith,  even 
their  language,  had  to  be  destroyed  before  their 
minds  had  become  receptive  enough  to  be  im- 
pregnated with  mysticism. 

For  mysticism,   with    its   fermentative   nature 


and  claire-obscure  thinking,  cannot  flourish  in  the 
world  of  freedom  and  in  the  fresh  air  of  active 
vitality.  A  certain  amount  of  dull  depression 
must  weigh  down  the  soul  before  this  timid  thing 
can  manifest  itself.  Islam,  strong,  severe,  re- 
lentless, invaded  the  Persian  dominions  in  the 
eighth  century.  Here,  if  anywhere,  its  hold  had 
a  depressing  effect  on  the  people,  for  curt  and 
stern  and  implicit  are  its  demands.  But  the 
austerity  and  marked  simplicity  of  Mohammedan- 
ism, which  enabled  it  to  make  such  rapid  progress, 
also  meant  that  where  it  did  strike  root  it  never 
penetrated  very  deeply  into  the  ground.  They 
who  accepted  the  belief  had  but  to  conform  to  its 
tenets,  make  their  confessions,  say  their  prayers, 
keep  the  fasts  and  the  feasts — beyond  this  it 
exacted  nothing,  because  it  had  not  much  more 
to  offer.  Deeper  understanding  and  fuller  know- 
ledge the  new  converts  had  to  find  for  themselves, 
and  if  they  were  experts  in  the  art  of  dissembling, 
called  Ketman — and  what  Asiatic  Mussulman 
is  not  ? — they  could  adhere  to  and  carry  about 
with  them,  hidden  under  the  new  cloak,  the  whole 
of  their  former  equipment  of  thoughts,  beliefs, 
feelings,  manners,  and  customs,  and  at  home, 
within  their  own  four  walls,  discard  the  new  cloak 
altogether. 

Under  the  dominion  of  Islam,  the  individual 
life    of    the    Persians   developed    into   a   strong 


6o 


MYSTICISM 


network  of  roots  which  has  become  the  basis  upon 
which  the  culture  of  the  Eastern  Caliphate— 
although  it  goes  by  an  Arabian  name— has  been 
built ;  from  its  pohtics,  customs,  and  dress,  to  its 
arts,  science,  and  poetry,  even  to  its  rehgious 
innovations.  Among  these  latter  we  must  make 
special  mention  of  that  form  of  mysticism  which 
expresses  itself  in  verse-making  and  drinking, 
sometimes  sublime,  sometimes  foolish,  known  as 

Sufism. 

Sufism,  so  called  because  the  first  adherents 
of  this  sect,  dressed  in  white  wool  (suf),  came 
originally  from  Arabia.  The  sober-minded 
Semites  never  had  much  inclination  towards 
mysticism;  on  the  contrary,  they  are  only  too 
conscious  of  the  distance  between  God  and  man, 
and  of  what  is  expected  of  man  in  order  that 
he  may  gain  the  approbation  of  the  Most  High. 
Yet  there  have  been  among  them  excitable 
and  emotional  natures,  to  whom  the  contem- 
plative has  been  congenial,  and  there  have  been 
people  even  in  Arabia  and  Palestine  to  whom 
the  Mohammedan  admonition  to  meditate  on  the 
name  of  God  has  been  a  welcome  excuse  for  a 
speculative  absorption  and  losing  of  self  in  re- 
flecting upon  the  most  Holy  One. 

In  Persia,  the  growth  and  development  of  this 
inner  piety  under  the  influence  of  Islam  was  very 
different.     Here,   a  cultured,  well-educated  class 


PERSIAN  MYSTICISM 


6i 


of  people  reluctantly  embraced  Islam,  and  bowed 
to  its  precepts  with  undisguised  irony.  Here  it 
came  in  contact  with  a  cheerful,  happy,  pleasure- 
loving  people  whose  most  sacred  duty  had  been 
from  ancient  times  to  get  all  the  good  they  could 
out  of  life,  and  had  learned  very  intelligently 
to  enjoy  life ;  but  it  also  struck  upon  a 
beaten  nation,  whose  cheerfulness  was  mingled 
with  sadness,  nay,  even  with  despair,  and  to 
whom  the  pessimism  of  India  was  a  dangerous 
neighbour. 

Sufism  is  made  up  of  three  chief  factors— the 
order  of  succession  is  immaterial — the  monotheism 
of  the  Koran,  suppressed  Persian  cheerfulness, 
and  Indian  asceticism  and  philosophy ;  or  rather, 
let  us  say,  it  is  not  made  up  at  all,  it  is  an  inde- 
pendent whole,  fed  by  these  three  factors,  and 
brought  to  maturity  by  them.  It  is,  in  fact,  that 
condition  which  underlies  all  mysticism  and  often 
completely  masters  it,  and  which  is  known  as 
quietism.  Quietism — a  state  of  exquisite  ex- 
haustion, in  which  every  limb  is  in  complete 
repose,  in  which  thinking  becomes  brooding 
absorption,  while  the  soul  revels  in  melancholy 
sensuality — or  senselessness — is  the  Oriental's  most 
cherished  experience,  his  paradise  on  earth. 

The  more  he  is  weakened  by  the  oppressiveness 
of  the  climate,  or  languishes  under  arbitrary 
administration,    poverty,    national    disorder,    or 


62 


MYSTICISM 


individual  disadvantages,  the  more  comfort  he 
finds  in  roaming  those  nameless  distances  which 
are  untouched  by  earthly  change,  or  in  losing 
himself  in  ecstatic  self-abandonment — a  con- 
dition from  which  no  external  power  can  rouse 
him. 

And  therefore  he  drinks;  drinks,  regardless  of 
Koran  and  bastinado,  drinks  to-day  like  the 
Persian  poets  of  the  Middle  Ages  drank  before 
him.  "  Drunkenness,"  says  Gobineau,  "  is  the 
hereditary  sin  of  the  central  Asiatic."  This  vice, 
which  Mohammed  fought  against  so  zealously,  all 
the  people  succumb  to.  Priests  as  well  as  kings 
spend  their  nights  in  drinking.  Ladies  of  the 
royal  family  as  well  as  bazaar  girls  tumble  on  to 
their  carpets  at  midnight,  totally  drunk ;  and 
"cold  tea,"  as  arrak  is  delicately  called,  or  even 
European  brandy,  flows  freely  in  the  so-called 
"  tea  house." 

"  And  yet  they  do  not  drink  or  go  into  these 
excesses  for  the  sake  of  making  merry  with  their 
friends,  nor  because  of  the  exhilarating  effects  of 
intoxication,  nor  for  the  love  of  the  liquor  itself, 
for  the  Asiatic  detests  the  taste  of  wine  and  brandy. 
While  drinking,  he  holds  his  handkerchief  to  his 
nose,  and  makes  faces  as  he  swallows  the  drink 
like  medicine.  He  drinks  because  it  is  the  quickest 
way  for  getting  into  that  condition  when  one  no 
longer  tastes  or  feels,   a  condition  of  complete 


/ 


PERSIAN  MYSTICISM 


63 


stupefaction.  That  is  the  inducement ;  for  the 
stupor  of  intoxication  is  the  height  of  his 
desire."  ^ 

On  this  soil  of  Oriental  human  nature,  Sufism 
must  be  seen  to  be  understood.  What  outwardly 
distinguishes  this  white  community  from  the 
orthodox  Mussulman  is  their  disregard  of  the 
external  forms  and  usages  of  Mohammedanism. 
For  the  untutored  all  these  formalities  may  be 
quite  fitting,  but  for  those  whose  spirits  have 
been  illumined  from  above,  they  are  unworthy, 
food  for  babes,  and  child's  play.  To  the  mind 
preparing  to  meet  the  Most  High,  dogmas  and 
moral  teachings  are  worthless.  All  respect  to 
the  prophet  !— he  was  a  highly  gifted  man,  and 
possibly  had  interviews  with  the  angel  Gabriel, 
but  whether  he  correctly  understood  him  is 
another  matter.  His  book — or  part  of  it  at  any 
rate — needs  to  be  revised  before  it  can  be  used 
with  perfect  confidence. 

The  antipathy  with  which  they  regard  the 
official  religion — necessarily  only  expressed  in 
whispers  and  in  secret— curiously  enough  fills 
these  distant  Asiatics  with  a  great  admiration 
for  Voltaire,  of  whom  the  Russians  have  told 
them  that  he  hated  the  Church  and  especially  the 
priesthood.     They  have  read  none  of  his  writings, 

*  A.  de  Gobineau,  Les  religions  et  les  philosophies  dans 
I' Asie  centrale,  2nd  ed.,  p.  68  and  foil. 


64 


MYSTICISM 


but  it  gives  them  immense  satisfaction  to  know 
that  they  have  a  great  European  saige  on  their 

side.^ 

All  mysticism  is  antagonistic  to  the  Church,  or, 
perhaps  more  correctly,  despises  all  outward  show 
and  ceremony.  We  have  heard  how  the  Hindu 
Brahmans  extolled  the  "  road  of  meditation  "  at 
the  cost  of  the  "  road  of  action,"  and  the  mystics 
of  the  Middle  Ages  and  of  modern  Romanticism 
tell  us  the  same  thing.  The  more  outward 
ceremonial  there  is  in  a  rehgion,  the  more  deter- 
minately  the  mystic  turns  away  from  it,  hence 
it  is  that  Roman  Catholicism  makes  more  mystics 
than  Protestantism,  and  this  is  also  the  reason 
that  Islam,  the  very  essence  of  which  is  in  outward 
appearance,  has  produced  the  most  luxuriant 
mysticism.  But  mystics  always  act  in  semi- 
secrecy.  They  take  care  not  to  break  openly 
with  the  State  religion,  for  their  soul  desires  peace, 
and  this  they  gladly  purchase  at  the  price  of 
seeming  outward  obedience.  They  are  indifferent 
to  all  external  things,  therefore  they  neglect  or 
observe  them  as  occasion  demands.  "  What 
need  can  there  be  for  Gabriel's  interference  where 
direct  divine  light  is  the  guide  ?  "  This  idea 
underlies  all  the  scorn  and  ridicule  lavished  by 
mystic  poets  on  praying  and  kneeling,  fasts  and 

*  A.  de  Gobineau,  Trois  ans  en  Asie,  p.  323  and  foil. 
1859. 


PERSIAN  MYSTICISM 


65 


ablutions,  Bible  texts  and  rosaries;  and  yet 
some  of  those  scoffers  knew  the  Koran  by  heart, 
and  one  has  hardly  ever  heard  of  a  Sufi  being 
turned  out  of  a  mosque. 

Not  in  the  Church  would  they  meet  one  another, 
but  in  their  inner  life.  What  they  have  in  common, 
what  binds  them  together,  are  the  inner  joys  and 
sorrows  between  which  the  mystic  soul  is  con- 
tinually swayed.  How  is  it  that  voluptuous 
living  always  goes  hand  in  hand  with  despair? 
Is  it  because  sensual  enjoyment  is  followed  by 
remorse,  or  because  grief  wants  to  drown  itself 
in  pleasure  ? 

The  latter  was  certainly  the  original  design 
in  Sufism  :  it  was  the  vanquished  nation  that 
took  to  drinking.  As  we  listen  more  attentively 
to  their  songs  of  lamentation,  we  become  aware 
how  by  degrees  the  theme  changes,  and  it  is 
the  epicure  who  complains  that  his  day  of  feast- 
ing is  so  short.  And  this  among  a  people  whose 
days  were  not  by  any  means  of  short  duration  ! 
It  is  rather  hard  on  the  anti-alcohol  statisticians 
that  some  of  the  celebrities  of  Sufism  were  over 
a  hundred  years  old,  that  they  even  have  on 
record  a  man  who  reached  the  age  of  a  hundred 
and  fifty.  His  complaint  is  surely  of  some 
weight,  where  he  sings  :  ''  For  a  few  moments 
longer  I  still  hoped  to  indulge  my  desires,  but, 
alas!  my  breath  stopped.  Alas!  at  the  table 
5 


66 


MYSTICISM 


of  life,  laden  with  goodly  dishes,  I  sat  down  and 
ate  for  a  few  short  moments,  and  Fate  spoke  : 
it  is  enough." 

**  Kno  west  thou,  thou  cage  of  bones,"  it  says 
in  another  passage,  "  that  thy  soul  is  a  bird  and 
thy  name  a  breath  ?  When  the  bird  escapes 
from  the  cage  and  shakes  off  its  fetters,  it  will 
not  a  second  time  become  thy  prey.  Make  use 
of  the  hour,  the  world  lasts  but  a  moment." 

*'  Many  times  after  we  are  gone  the  roses  will 
bring  forth  buds,  and  the  young  green  unfold 
itself.  Many  a  summer  and  winter  and  spring 
will  be,  when  we  are  dust  and  ashes." 

The  philosophical  basis  of  this  pessimism  in 
the  Persian  poets  is  the  same  as  that  of  the  Hindu 
philosophers,  and  probably  borrowed  from  these 
latter.  What  we  call  the  world  is  not  actually 
existing,  not  even  true.  It  is  imagination,  a 
dream,  a  delusion.  *'  All  the  tangible  things 
of  this  world  are  but  the  outcome  of  thine  im- 
agination," it  says.  "  They  are  as  unreal  as 
the  circle  which  thou  seemest  to  see  when  whirl- 
ing a  stone  round  at  the  end  of  a  string."  Life 
is  a  sleep  and  a  dream.  *'  Thou  sleepest,  and 
what  thou  seest  are  dream-pictures.  All  that 
thou  seest  proceeds  from  thine  imagination. 
When  thou  awakest  on  the  resurrection  morning, 
then  shalt  thou  understand  that  all  was  but  a 
delusion." 


PERSIAN  MYSTICISM 


67 


What,  then,  is  true?     Where  is  reality? 

In  God ;  only  in  Him  and  in  His  paradise. 
"  Material  things  are  the  shadows  of  that  other 
world,  and,"  says  Hafiz,  "perhaps  thy  face  is 
a  reflection  of  the  divine  light.  Truly  this  is 
so;  this  is  no  delusion."  But  we  who  only  see 
the  reflected  image  and  walk  in  shadows,  can 
say  no  more  about  this  remote  and  hidden  reality 
than  that  it  exists.  "Science  hangs  its  head 
and  weeps.  Never  will  it  fathom  the  mystery 
of  life.  Brood  on  it  no  longer,  science  cannot 
think  it  out.  It  cannot  get  beyond  vague  words." 
.  .  .  "Intellect,"  it  says  elsewhere,  "is  as  an 
ass  sticking  in  the  mud." 

Is  there  no  means  of  escape?  Can  God  be 
nothing  to  us,  because  He  is  altogether  incom- 
prehensible ?  Are  we  fettered  to  our  delusions 
to  our  impotent  inteUect  ?  No,  surely  not! 
The  reflected  image  and  the  shadows  teach  us 
that  from  God  irradiates  beauty  and  love  All 
beauty  must  be  a  reflection  of  His  being,  all  love 
must  be  a  longing  for  Him.  Wilt  thou  be  like 
Him?  Then  consider  the  beauty  of  this  world  Wilt 
thou  see  Him  ?  Then  enjoy  the  world  so  thoroughly 
that  thou  perceivest  Him  therein.  Give  thyself 
up  to  thine  ardent,  longing  desire,  and  it  will 
lead  thee  to  Him.  Love  leads  the  thoughts  up 
to  God  ;  whether  it  be  an  earthly  or  a  heavenly 
love,   it  makes  the  heart  susceptible  to  receive 


68 


MYSTICISM 


God.  And  thus  the  devout  Sufi  finds  the  way, 
finds  hfe.  "  He  buries  himself  in  contemplation, 
and  dives  down  into  the  sea  of  revelation." 
Therefore  Church  and  priest  and  scripture  are 
superfluous  to  him.  Safe  on  the  Sultan's  breast 
he  needs  neither  messenger  nor  message. 

One  specially  favourite  designation  the  Sufi 
has  for  his  God.  He  caUs  him  "Friend,"  or 
"  The  Beloved."  For  his  love  is  erotic  and  of 
great  tenderness.  He  sighs  for  his  God,  and  sings 
to  Him,  as  the  nightingale  to  the  rose.  Listening 
and  longing  he  spends  the  silent  watches  of  the 
night.  Intoxicated  by  the  perfume  of  the  rose, 
and  allured  by  the  song  of  the  nightingale,  he 
receives  in  nature,  among  the  beds  and  bushes 
of  the  garden,  a  foretaste  of  that  heavenly  meeting 
which  will  once  take  place.  Nay,  so  fully  can 
he  enjoy  it  here  in  anticipation,  when  he  gives 
himself  up  to  his  musings,  so  completely  can 
the  scent  of  the  roses  overpower  him,  that  he 
becomes  stupefied  by  it.  "  I  intended,  when 
I  came  to  the  rosebush  to  gather  roses  in  the 
lappet  of  my  cloak  as  a  gift  to  my  Friend,  but 
the  perfume  of  the  roses  intoxicated  me,  and  the 
cloak  slipped  out  of  my  hand." 

So  fantastical  is  this  amorousness— no  wonder, 
then,  that  it  led  to  verse-making.  So  poetical 
it  is  that  it  always  craves  for  beauty,  and  withal 
so  God-seeking  that  all  beauty  is  only  beautiful 


PERSIAN  MYSTICISM 


69 


because  it  flows  from  God.  In  the  object  of  his 
earthly  affection  he  embraces  his  God,  for  the 
kiss  of  his  beloved  and  the  face  of  his  beloved 
are  to  him  but  the  reflection  of  the  impending 
joy  and  beauty  of  that  divinely  blessed  meeting. 
All  he  enjoys  or  suffers,  he  enjoys  or  suffers 
for  the  sake  of  his  Love.  "  Whoso  lives  his  life 
other  than  for  the  Beloved,  he  shall  be  rejected, 
be  he  Adam  himself." 

Death  alone  can  bring  perfect  union.  Therefore 
to  die  is  bliss.  To  him  who  loves  truly,  the  cup 
of  death  from  the  hand  of  the  Beloved  is  a  cup  of 
joy.  The  last  word  of  the  poet  Jelaleddin  Rumi 
was  :  "  Death  is  the  only  vesture  which  separates 
me  from  the  object  of  my  affection.  For  must 
we  not  desire  that  light  should  be  fused  into  light, 
and  that  our  unclothing  should  lead  to  our  union 
with  the  Beloved  ?  " 

Now,  how  is  this  blessed  encounter  effected  ? 
Its  chief  peculiarity  is  not  the  passion  of  the 
devotion,  but  the  complete  self-surrender,  the 
emptying  of  self,  which  also  is  its  consummation. 
"  Learn  from  the  moth  what  love  is  !  It  gives 
up  its  life,  is  consumed  by  the  flame  of  its  love, 
and  yet  no  sound  is  heard."  This  characteristic 
illustration  differs  but  little  from  that  of  the  Hindu 
spark,  which  falls  back  into  the  flame.  For  the 
Persian  idea,  like  that  of  the  Hindu,  is  that  man 
without  the  power  of  choice  evolves  from  God, 


70 


MYSTICISM 


and  also  without  power  of  choice  returns  to  God. 
This  is  philosophical  as  well  as  fanciful.  It 
teaches  that  the  soul  is  a  shadow  which  only 
acquires  reality  when  it  is  stripped  of  all  indi- 
viduality. Thus  the  human  soul  is  everything 
and  nothing.  "  The  world  is  man,  and  man  is  the 
world  "  ;  the  godhead  takes  the  soul  into  itself 
that  it  may  lose  itself  in  the  godhead.  All  this 
proves  that  the  ordinary  senses  do  not  suffice,  and 
that  intellect  has  to  stand  aside  ashamed,  if  one 
is  to  live  that  soulish  life  which  leads  to  God. 
Consciousness  expands  until  it  snaps;  the  light 
flames  up  so  high  that  it  goes  out. 

This  condition  is  brought  about  by  intoxication. 
*'  When  the  fire  of  the  winehouse  has  consumed 
the  house  of  intellect,  then  there  is  room  in  man 
for  the  godhead.''    "  The  world  calls  it  foolishness, 
but  he  who  is  wise  knows  better.     The  drunkard, 
losing  his  way  as  he   leaves  the  winehouse,  be- 
comes the  object  of  mockery  and  derision.     With 
every  step  he  falls  in  mud  and  dirt.     The  world 
of  fools  laughs  at  it.     Every  one  who  has  not 
himself    tasted    the    wine,    laughs    at    it.     The 
drunken   man   forgets    all   that   belongs  to  the 
world  of  sense,  poverty  and  misery,  sorrow  and 
remorse."     Hear  what   Hafiz  says  :    "  The  rose 
has  unfolded  its  petals,  and  the  nightingale  is  in 
a  transport  of  delight.     Now  up  and  rejoice,  ye 
Sufis,  if  ye  love  wine  !     See  how  the  crystal  goblet 


PERSIAN  MYSTICISM  71 

breaks  the  stony  wall  of  remorse !  Bring  wine, 
for  in  the  royal  abode  of  contentment  there  is  no 
difference  between  king  and  serf,  between  wise 
and  foolish.  Once  we  all  have  to  leave  the  house 
which  has  two  doors,  what  matter  then  whether 
the  ceiling  be  high  or  low  ?  "  Therefore  the 
Sufi  spends  his  days  in  the  winehouse  ;  there  he 
would  wish  to  draw  his  last  breath,  there  he  would 
be  buried,  and  blessed  is  he  whose  body  helps  to 
grow  a  vine,  and  out  of  whose  dust  a  wine- jug 
is  moulded. 

And  is  that  the  whole  of  their  religion  ?     Oh 
no.     Only  the  highest,  the  perfect  ones  attain 
to  this.     Straight  and  narrow  is  the  path  which 
leads    thither.       Many    steps    and    stages    and 
stations  have  to   be  gone   through,  and  not  all 
who  start  can  keep   up   to   the  end.      Once  the 
birds  desired  to  fly  up  to  where  their  King  Simurg 
was  seated,  high  on  the  top  of  a  mountain  in  the 
centre   of   the   world.     They   all   met    together, 
and  the  hoopoe  ^  was  chosen  to  head  the  pro- 
cession.    Away  they  flew  over  the  hills  of  the 
earth,  over  dales  and  high  mountain-ridges,  but 
by  and  by   their   numbers   began   to   decrease, 
and   only   thirty   reached   the   highest    summit. 
In  reward   for  their  perseverance  these    thirty 
were  made  one  with  Simurg,  for  si-murg  means 
thirty  birds.     They  were  merged  into  the  infinite 

1  Bird  with  large  crest. 


^»K;.«»inl!K-u^''  -V 


72 


MYSTICISM 


compassion  of  the  Most  High,  for  Simurg  signifies 
love. 

Not  all  can  keep  up  in  the  race,  which  is  toil- 
some and  full  of  privations.  It  needs  great 
moral  courage  to  rise  to  be  a  Sufi ;  yet  the  per- 
fected  Sufi  counts  moral  accomplishments  of 
little  value,  they  are  as  child's  play  to  him. 
In  its  moral  precepts  Sufism  has  something  in 
common  with  Christianity.  Sufism  recognises 
the  necessity  of  the  chastisements  and  morti- 
fications of  the  flesh  which  produce  the  ecstatic 
condition  he  desires  to  attain.  In  this  respect 
he  differs  not  from  other  fanatics,  but  to  his 
honour  be  it  said  that  he  looks  upon  these  extrava- 
gances as  the  lowest  stage  in  his  career.  The 
finished  Sufi  is  recognisable  by  his  supreme 
morality,  and  this  alone  makes  him  fit  for  the 
highest  place.  This  morality,  like  any  other,  has 
its  precepts  and  its  prohibitions,  both,  however, 
growing  from  one  common  root,  namely,  that 
state  of  passiveness  which  proceeds  from  self- 
effacement,  or  at  any  rate  that  keeping  under 
of  self  which  has  to  be  cultivated  if  one  would 
attain  the  final  goal,  the  entire  losing  of  self. 

Humility  is  a  first  necessity.  There  is  a  pretty 
piece  of  poetry  of  Persian  origin,  called  "  The 
Reward  of  Lowhness,"  which  tells  of  a  drop  of 
water  falling  into  the  ocean  and  finally  becoming 
a  beautiful  pearl,   as  reward   for   its    humility. 


PERSIAN  MYSTICISM 


73 


A  drop  in  the  ocean — a  moth  in  the  flame  ;  the 
recognition  of  one's  own  insignificance,  coupled 
with  the  desire  for  self-extinction  ;  this  pantheistic 
kind  of  humility  can  easily  be  distinguished 
from  Christian  humility  with  its  sevenfold  promise 
of  reward.  And  yet  how  often,  by  a  seemingly 
slight  shifting  of  the  premises,  Christianity  has 
mistaken  the  one  for  the  other.  We  shall  hear 
more  of  this  presently. 

The  practical  virtues  which  emanate  from 
humble-mindedness  :  patience,  contentment,  liber- 
ality ;  and  the  self-evident  vices :  anger,  envy, 
pride,  and  deceitfulness,  distinguish  the  wise 
man  from  the  fool,  no  matter  whether  he  be 
Persian,  Hindu,  Chinese,  Greek,  or  Christian. 
The  cloak  is  always  the  same  ;  only  when  asking 
the  wise  man  why  he  wears  it,  the  answer  differs 
according  to  the  standpoint  which  he  occupies. 

The  wise  Sufi  wears  it  because  it  suits  the  rest 
of  his  equipment,  but  he  wears  it  with  a  certain 
amount  of  indifference.  It  is  not  the  cloak 
itself  that  matters  to  him.  To  him,  as  to  the 
Hindu,  all  moral  virtues  are  but  the  first  principles. 
His  ideal  is  to  get  beyond  the  touch  of  good  and 
evil.  Persuaded  that  the  divine  power  works 
its  will  in  him  and  guides  his  actions,  who  shall 
dare  to  condemn  anything  he  does  ?  He  is 
superhuman,  and  has  to  give  account  to  no  man. 
*'  Let  not  the  soul  which  burns  with  divine  light 


»'*i  ,t,''.!*a^^»^l^K3W»-™a-«*6*iR^^*«fc^S??S>»3^'-J^^ 


i 


74 


MYSTICISM 


be  judged  by  the  standard  of  other  men  !  If 
his  speech  is  foul,  yet  do  not  call  him  a  sinner. 
If  he  commits  murder,  yet  do  not  draw  thy  sword. 
For  his  sin  is  above  all  virtues."  Such  is  their 
humility ! 

Out  of  this  humble-mindedness  grew  what 
they  termed  "  non-pride."  Whoso  overcomes 
himself  has  also  overcome  his  duties — that  is  the 
moral  of  their  mysticism.  He  who  has  tasted  the 
sweetness  of  ecstasy,  shall  he  trouble  himself 
about  dry  virtues  ?  He  who  by  inspiration  has 
risen  into  oneness  with  the  godhead,  what  has 
he  to  do  with  men  ?  And  when  the  cup  of  joy 
has  raised  him  above  the  world,  what  profit  is 
the  world  to  him  ? 

Such  are  the  conclusions  which  have  made 
Sufism  into  one  of  the  ineffaceable  powers  of  the 
earth,  but  which  at  the  same  time  have  dragged  it 
down  to  the  most  impotent  folly.  It  has  made 
poets  and  it  has  made  drunkards.  This,  in  short, 
is  its  career.  Any  one  now  visiting  the  East, 
will  find  only  the  drunkard.  He  thrives  there,  for 
eastern  despots  know  well  how  to  value  the  power 
which  weakens  the  will.  In  his  drunkenness  the 
Persian  still  mumbles  the  imperishable  songs, 
and  as  we  listen  to  the  muttered  words  we  realise 
that  even  in  his  misery  he  still  dreams  of  "  the 
Friend  "  and  the  Rose. 


V.  GREEK  MYSTICISM 

Grecism,  what  was  it?  *' Verstand  und  Mass" 
(Reason  and  Moderation),  said  Schiller,  and  for  a 
long  time  this  was  believed  to  be  the  case.  Deep 
down  into  the  Greek  earth  we  had  to  dig,  and  many 
a  learned  prejudice  had  to  be  uprooted,  before  we 
began  to  realise  that  the  old  Greeks  were  made  of 
flesh  and  blood,  and  not  of  marble  and  hexa- 
meters. Their  being  flesh  and  blood  like  we  are 
has  also  taught  us  that  the  spiritual  fermentation, 
which  we  read  of  as  existing  in  ancient  Greece, 
was  not  merely  the  discreet  enthusiasm  indulged 
in  by  the  poets  of  the  classical  type,  but  that  in 
after-Homeric  times  it  pervaded  the  whole  com- 
munity, and  developed  into  the  same  kind  of 
ecstatic  frenzy  as  in  Eastern  lands. 

With  quiet  dignity — be  it  said  to  his  eternal 
glory — the  classical  Greek  kept  his  passions  under 
control,  gave  them  form  and  shape.  Hence  the 
"  reason  and  moderation  "  theory.  Yet  so  deeply 
had  this  fermentation  entered  into  the  Greek 
blood,  that  gradually,  as  ^  '  "-restraint  was  aban- 
doned and  the  classical  forms  fell  into  decay,  the 

7$ 


i^' 


ii 


^.i^^immm^møm 


76 


MYSTICISM 


tendency  towards  mysticism  increased,  and  has 
never  again  relinquished  its  hold.  Every  decline  in 
the  mental  state  of  Greece  marks  a  step  deeper 
down  into  mysticism ;  and  from  the  time  that 
Christianity  became  Grecianised,  it  sank  so  help- 
lessly into  mysticism,  that  the  life  of  the  Greek 
Church  and  the  theology  of  the  Greek  Church  bears 
henceforth  the  unmistakable  impress  of  it. 

And  this  is  the  more  remarkable  as  the  mystical 
element  was  not  originally  Greek.  The  Dionysian 
cult  which  introduced  it  cannot  be  explained  on 
Greek  hypotheses.  Erwin  Rohde,  who  in  his 
Psyche  reviews  the  whole  process,  shows  how 
the  Bacchanalian  rites  were  introduced  into  Greece 
from  the  north,  and  started  in  Thrace,  which  is 
also  the  home  of  the  Muses  and  the  wild  war-god 
Ares.  Like  a  raging  pestilence  the  boisterous, 
drunken  procession  swept  over  the  land,  with 
dancing  and  singing,  carrying  all  before  it,  also 
that  which  resisted  its  progress.  Foremost  were 
the  women,  as  is  usual  where  anything  eccentric 
takes  place.  With  music  of  cymbals  and  flutes 
they  stormed  onw^ards.  Behind  the  vine  leaves 
of  the  Thyrsos-staff  lurked  the  sharp-pointed 
lance,  licking  blood  when  their  frenzy  had  reached 
its  height.  Ox  or  goat,  whichever  happened  to  be 
at  hand, — or  sometimes  even  a  boy, — was  offered 
as  a  sacrifice.  In  their  wild  fury  they  threw 
themselves  at  the  feet  of  llieir  victim,  tore  it  to 


GREEK  MYSTICISM 


77 


pieces,  and  greedily  ate  the  warm  flesh  and  drank 
the  warm  blood.  If  the  victim  were  a  little  child, 
he  fared  no  better. 

What    mean    these     old     rites?     Were    they 
merely  the  outcome  of  the  wild  dance  cults,  or  the 
frenzy  of  drunkenness  ?     Or  was  there  something 
deeper    underneath    it    all  ?     There    is    a    myth 
connected  with  the  Dionysian  rites  which  throws 
some  light  on  this  subject.     It  is  the  story  of 
Zagreus,  the  "  horned  child,"  clearly  a  deity  not 
of  Greek  origin,  of  whom  it  is  told  that  he  was 
the  offspring  of  Zeus  and  his  daughter  Persephone, 
and  that  he  was  destined  to  inherit  his  father's 
throne    and    thunderbolt.     Hera,    however,    who 
always  kept  a  watchful  eye  on  the  natural  children 
of   her   consort,   caused   an   insurrection   of   the 
giants— Titans— against  Zagreus.     They  stormed 
his  throne,  tore  his  body  to  pieces,  and  devoured 
it.    Athene  rescued    his    heart,   and  took   it   to 
Zeus.    Zeus  gave  it  to  Semele,  who  now  brought 
forth  Zagreus  anew,  and  this  time  he  lived  and 
came  to  honour  under  the  name  of  Dionysius. 
In  his  anger,  Zeus  destroyed  the  Titans  with  his 
thunderbolt.     Their    ashes    were    scattered    over 
the  earth,  and  out  of  their  dust  men  were  made. 
And  that  is  why  we  are  what  we  are. 

The  problem  of  the  double  nature  in  man 
already  found  expression  in  the  Creation  legend 
of  the  early  Babylonian  epos,  in  which  we  are  told 


~^-i>^Mmmmsm^^^mi'^^^mm-ifm'iø^^mm^m^ 


78 


MYSTICISM 


that  Marduk  killed  Tiamat,  and  that  divine  and 
devil3*  blood  was  mixed  with  the  dust  of  which 
men  are  made.  And  so  it  is  here.  Out  of  the 
ashes  of  the  Titans  we  have  been  formed,  but  the 
divine  child  which  they  had  devoured  was  con- 
tained in  their  bodies,  and  became  dust  with 
them.  Therefore,  although  we  are  made  out  of 
devils'  dust,  there  is  divine  blood  also  running 
through  our  veins.  This  constitutes  a  Dionysian 
power  of  which  we  are  conscious  in  our  best 
moments,  and  which  it  is  our  duty  to  foster  that 
it  may  gain  the  mastery  in  us. 

The  wild  Mænades  fulfilled  this  duty  in  their 
crude  fashion.  They  made  either  an  ox  or  a  goat 
into  their  god ;  probably  because  the  earliest 
representation  of  the  deity  was  in  the  form  of 
either  of  these  two  strong  -  breeding  animals. 
Sometimes  they  took  a  child, — the  Zagreus  child, — 
and  pricked  it  on  their  spears,  afterwards  eating  its 
flesh  with  cannibal  appetite.  When  they  had  thus 
eaten  they  were  quite  sure  of  having  the  Dionysian 
power  in  them,  and  the  oftener  they  partook  of 
this  Bacchanalian  food  the  surer  they  were  that  the 
deity  by  transubstantiation  would  conquer  in  them. 

This  is  mysticism,  for  it  is  "  God  in  man,"  but 
it  is  a  peculiar  kind  of  mysticism,  which  brings 
the  animal  in  man  to  the  foreground.  And 
Greece  stood  not  alone  in  this  respect. 

Often  enough  in  primitive  religions  we  meet 


GREEK  MYSTICISM  79 

with  this  '^  consuming  of  the  deity."  The  camel 
sacrifices,  as  late  as  Mohammed's  time,  speak  of 
it.  Frantically  they  dance  round  and  round  the 
animal  until  they  lose  their  senses  and  believe  it 
to  be  their  god ;  then  they  devour  the  victim  neck 
and  crop.  This  is  the  recipe  acted  upon  in  a 
multitude  of  wild  variations. 

Such  customs  die  out  in  a  nation  when  a  higher 
moral  life  supplants  primitive  heathendom.     To 
the  elastic  intellect  of  the  Greeks,  however,  nothing 
seemed  too  absurd  but  what  some  ideal  side  might 
be  found  in  it.     If  they  were  able  to  fashion  a 
beautiful  Aphrodite  out  of  the  loathsome,  obscene 
goddesses  dug  up  out  of  Greek  soil,  the  Dionysian 
errors  could  surely  be  utilised  to  some  good  purpose. 
The  underlying  thought  in  the  doctrine  of  the 
Titanic  descent  of  man  is  pessimism.     Now  it  is 
not  at  all  in  accordance  with  the  primitive  nature 
of  the  Greeks  to  take  a  gloomy  view  of  things. 
The  sad  or  tragic  utterances  we  occasionally  meet 
with  in  Homer's  works  are  rather  an  expression 
of  regret  that  the  glorious  life  of  man  is  so  short, 
and  Solon  boldly  prays  the  gods  to  grant  him  not 
sixty,  but  eighty  years  of  life.     But  by  degrees,  as 
their  spirits  became  depressed,  even  the  Hellenes 
began  to  hang  their  heads. 

Of  Pythagoras  it  was  said  among  the  Greeks- 
feeling  there  was  something  strange  about  his  way 
of  thinking-.that  he  had  derived  his  wisdom  from 


I 


t»''miimeum»i&iim**msim 


MMtaMiSå 


80 


MYSTICISM 


foreign  lands.  He  preached  as  early  as  the  middle 
of  the  sixth  centurv  a  doctrine  of  life  based  on  very 
gloomy  considerations,  and  which  in  outward  form 
at  any  rate  was  often  not  unlike  the  Dionysian  or — 
as  it  is  better  known — the  Orphean  belief. 

Just  as  Zagreus  was  born  again  as  Dionysius,  so, 
according  to  Pythagoras,  are  we  created  in  order 
to  be  born  again,  and  the  wheel  of  births  for  the 
transmigration  of  souls  is  thus  kept  in  perpetual 
motion.  Again,  as  in  Orphism  it  says  that  we  are 
composed  of  the  conflicting  Titanic  and  Dionysian 
elements  which  are  always  at  war  within  us,  so 
Pythagoras  declares  that  the  soul  is  united  with 
and  buried  in  the  body  as  a  punishment ;  that  the 
body  is  a  prison-house  into  which  the  soul  has  been 
cast  because  of  its  sins,  and  not  until  the  soul  has 
freed  itself  from  this  outer  covering  can  God  lead 
it  up  into  the  spiritual  life  of  a  higher  world.  The 
same  thing  is  taught  a  century  later  by  Empedocles : 
the  soul  is  joined  to  the  body  to  expiate  former 
shortcomings,  and  after  death  is  either  raised  into 
a  higher  sphere,  or  is  thrown  into  the  hell  of  Tar- 
tarus, or,  as  a  third  alternative,  is  doomed  to  be 
reincarcerated  and  to  wander  through  various 
animal  and  human  forms.  For  the  soul's  original 
home  is  with  God,  where  it  existed  in  primitive 
bliss,  from  whence,  through  sin,  it  has  fallen  to  earth, 
and  to  which  height  it  must  work  itself  up  again. 

Two  means  are  provided  to  assist  the  soul  in  this 


GREEK  MYSTICISM  81 

struggle.  The  one  is  sacramental  consecration, 
which  consists  in  being  admitted  into  the  circle 
of  philosophy,  or  faith ;  the  other  is  purification 
(katharsis),  to  which  the  devout  person  must 
submit,  and  which  even  in  the  days  of  Pythagoras 
included  asceticism. 

In  all  these  matters  the  thoughts  of  the  philo- 
sophers correspond   with   the   vagrant   teachings 
of  Orphism.     Only  on  one  point  the  philosopher 
carefuUy  guards  himself.     He  refrains  from  saying 
that  the  human  soul  is  divine,  which  the  followers 
of    Dionysius    boldly    declared    to   be   the   case. 
According  to  them,  the  souls  were  "  entheoi  " ;  they 
contained  the  divine,  had  exchanged  souls  with  the 
Godhead  ;  or  further  still :  the  human  soul  was 
originally  a  "  daimon/'  a  being  of  divine  nature. 
Not  only  in  the  invisible  choir  of  spirits  had  it 
roamed,  but  the  unborn  souls  wander  visibly  upon 
the  earth— and  the  ultimate  end  is  salvation,  re- 
union with  the  Godhead. 

So  far  the  philosophers  do  not  stretch  the  point. 
Their  "  ultimate  end,"  in  olden  times,  was  always 
restricted  within  certain  limitations.  One  cannot 
become  divine,  they  argued,  but  one  can  try  to 
becoxne  like  the  divinity.  They  hesitate  to  make 
the  great  leap  which  would  land  them  into  pure 
mysticism,  but  they  would  like  to,  if  they  dared  ; 
therefore  they  push  their  superlative  as  near  to 
the  borderland  as  they  can. 
6 


82 


MYSTICISM 


GREEK  MYSTICISM 


Even  Plato  could  not  entirely  free  himself  from 
the  deep-rooted  influence  of  Dionysianism.  His 
celestial  idealism  is,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  Orphism, 
but  in  such  high  potency  that  it  is  difficult  to  reduce 
it  again  to  its  simple,  original  form.  Whether  we 
may  call  this  high  idealism  of  Plato  mysticism, 
is  open  to  doubt.  Fortunately  there  are  things  in 
this  world  of  such  magnitude  that  they  defy  any 
made-up  system.  Yet,  when  Plato  draws  near 
to  the  fulfilment  of  his  highest  ideal,  there  certainly 
is  a  trait  of  mysticism  in  him,  which  comes  strik- 
ingly near  to  the  notions  then  prevailing  in  the 
East.  Perhaps  it  is  the  Arian  blood  in  them  which 
causes  all  these  great  thinkers  to  think  alike  on 
these  sublimest  matters,  or  perhaps  it  is  an  inner 
logic  leading  all  noble  natures  ultimately  into  the 
one  path,  which  has  its  starting-point  in  mysticism. 

Plato,  however,  as  a  disciple  of  Socrates,  should 
not  have  been  the  man  to  bring  mysticism  to  honour 
in  Greek  philosophy.  For  if  any  man  ever  fully 
realised  how  limited  a  creature  man  is,  and  of 
how  little  avail  it  is  to  attempt  to  break  through 
these  limitations,  that  man  surely  was  Socrates. 
Purely  Greek  is  the  thought  which  meets  us  over 
and  over  again  in  the  myths  of  ancient  Greece — 
that  an  insuperable  gulf  separates  men  from  the 
gods,  and  that  the  destiny  of  mortals  is  quite 
distinct  from  the  blissful  existence  of  the  gods. 
The  old  Greek  moral  was  :   Wilt  thou  be  happy, 


83 


remember  thy  finiteness.  If  in  thy  pride^thou 
shouldst  be  tempted  to  aspire  to  more  than  be- 
longs to  thy  finite  state,  the  ''  envy  of  the  gods  " 
will  soon  teach  thee  what  thy  proper  place  is. 

Thus  moderation  became  the  Greek's  chief 
virtue  ;  that  wise  self-control  which  ennobled  their 
art  and  stamped  their  culture  as  classical,  in  con- 
tradistinction to  what  is  known  as  primitive,  and 
expresses  itself  in  ungoverned  lusts  and  appetites. 

Socrates  brought  this  philosophical  self-control 
to  perfection  by  carrying  it  into  the  sphere  of 
contemplation,    and    by    teaching    mankind    to 
respect  the  boundary  line  of  human  knowledge. 
Humility  of  mind  was  introduced  by  Socrates, 
even  as  humility  of  heart  was  preached  by  Christ! 
But  the  Socratic  "  know  thyself  "  contained  more 
than  a  warning  to  respect  the  limitations  set  to 
human  intellect.     It   contained  a  promise  also, 
that  he  who   kept  within    the  bounds  of    true 
humanity  would  find  in  it  a  wealth  of  power  and 
strength,  amply  compensating  him  for  not  sharing 
the  blissful  existence  of  the  gods,  namely,  the  light 
of  conscience  and  the  sacred  calling  to  do  right. 

Greek  realism  and  Greek  idealism  thus  clearly 
set  forth  the  conception  of  man  as  an  individual 
personality,  both  in  regard  to  his  insignificance 
and  his  dignity  ;  but  Socrates  never  attempted 
to  seek  any  glory  for  man  beyond  his  individuality 
and  his  moral  responsibility. 


H  v^   ^W^rnuit^ttTtr''- 


84 


MYSTICISM 


GREEK  MYSTICISM 


85 


As  the  disciple  of  Socrates,  Plato  should  have 
kept  a  sober  guard  over  this  boundary  line.  It 
is,  however,  with  a  suspicion  of  irony  that  he 
carries  the  great  virtue  of  moderation  to  the 
extreme,  when  in  his  dialogue  Phcedrus  (p.  244) 
he  lets  Socrates  as  an  ironical  representative  of  this 
view — point  out  to  a  young  man,  that  also  in 
love  a  certain  degree  of  moderation  should  be 
observed,  and  that  we  should  never  be  carried 
away  by  it.  For  then  it  would  deteriorate  into 
madness,  into  what  the  Greeks  called  mania,  which 
is  despicable.  This  principle  is  then  worked  out 
to  an  absurdity,by  concluding  that  :  if  I  have  the 
choice  of  loving  any  one  who  loves  me  or  another 
who  does  not  love  me,  it  is  advisable  to  prefer  the 
one  who  does  not  love  me,  because  the  im- 
passioned has  lost  control  over  himself. 

At  this  point,  however,  Plato  suddenly  swerves 
round,  and— like  the  poet  Stesichorus,  who  first 
composed  an  ode  against  Helena  and  then  recalled 
it — he  now  declared  that  there  was  one  kind  of 
mania  which  is  grand  and  praiseworthy,  and 
emanated  from  the  gods.  He  even  adds  that  the 
best  things  come  to  us  while  we  are  in  this  trance, 
which  comes  over  us  as  a  divine  gift.  For  the 
prophetess  of  Delphi  and  the  priestess  of  Dodone 
— when  in  a  trance — have  done  much  both  for 
the  good  of  individuals  and  for  the  public  welfare, 
but  little  or  nothing  when  in  possession  of  llieir  five 


\ 


y 


senses.     To  speak  of  the  Sibyls  and  others  who 
through  mantik  or  possession  (entheoi)  have  done 
good  service  to  many  by  predicting  the  future- 
were  but  waste  of  time  and  a  useless  enumeration 
of  facts  known  to  all.     One  thing,  however,  is 
well  worth  recalling,  namely,  that  the  ancients 
who  in  ages  past  formed  the  words  of  speech, 
did  not  look  upon  mania  as  a  thing  to  despise  or 
to  be  ashamed  of,  for  in  that  case  they  would  not 
have    called    the    art    of    divination    "mantik," 
which  word,  according  to  Plato,  is  derived  from 
mania.     It  proves  that  the  name-givers  regarded 
mania  as  a  good  thing  when  it  emanated  from 
tlie  gods.     And  Plato,  while  objecting  to  mantik 
as  the  human  art  of    soothsaying,  agrees  with 
the  ancients   "  that   divinely  inspired  mania   is 
vastly  superior  to  human  self-control." 

Plato  could  speak  so  because,  besides  what  he 
had  learned  from  Socrates,  he  had  also  studied 
Orphism  ;  he  had  to  speak  so  because  in  him 
was  an  inner  longing  for  the  highest,  a  longing 
which  could  not  be  satisfied  with  the  empiric 
limitations  of  humanity.  Therefore,  when  he 
talks  without  restraint,  without  philosophically 
weighing  every  word,  but  out  of  the  fulness 
of  his  heart,  he  says  :  '*  the  soul  is  immortal," 
and  then  he  dilates  upon  the  soul  as  being  for  the 
greater  part  heaven-born  and  divinely  fed,  and  this 
accounts  for  what  there  is  beautiful  and  good 


f  tiSJEJ!  ns-  J'-SeWSBi***^     1'^=' 


86 


MYSTICISM 


and  true  in  human  nature.  But  there  is  always 
the  dual  tendency,  the  striving  upwards  to  the 
gods,  and  the  pulUng  downwards  to  the  earth. 
"  Nourish  thy  soul  with  the  strength  of  wisdom, 
of  beauty,  and  of  goodness,'*  says  Plato,  "  that 
thou  mayest  find  the  way  to  the  celestial  heights, 
for  there  alone  the  soul  shall  find  rest."  If  the 
soul  is  immortal,  then  it  is  divine.  To  the  Greek 
mind  these  two  words  mean  the  same.  Once  it 
abode  with  the  gods  in  perfect  purity.  Having 
tasted  of  purity  it  always  longs  for  it.  And  if 
on  earth  our  soul  beholds  beauty,  or  comes  in 
contact  with  goodness  or  wisdom,  we  are  seized 
with  a  longing  after  what  once  was  ours,  what 
we  now  only  vaguely  remember  as  a  dream  of 
long  ago. 

This  is  Platonic  love.  The  highest  expression 
of  love  is  love  for  the  highest  ;  a  longing  for 
what  is  eternal  and  perfect. 

At  Plato's  Symposion  all  speak  of  love  ;  but 
love  as  conceived  by  Socrates  is  not  satisfied 
with  earthly  love.  That  is  only  the  first  stage. 
We  love  an  individual  being,  and  good  thoughts 
arise  in  us  because  of  this  love,  until,  taught  by 
love,  we  discern  beauty  and  goodness  in  all  things 
and  all  beings.  Then  we  go  a  step  farther  in  the 
apprehension  of  the  beautifiil,  until  we  learn  to 
esteem  the  beauty  of  the  soul  above  that  of  the 
body.    Again  love  leads  us  on  to  a  higher  stage, 


GREEK  MYSTICISM 


87 


and  we  learn  to  appreciate  the  beauty  of  human 
intercourse,  and  the  beauty  of  wisdom  fills  us 
with  enthusiasm.  Larger  and  wider  becomes  our 
horizon  ;  more  and  more  we  learn  in  the  school  of 
love.  We  understand  what  are  the  great  connect- 
ing links  of  life,  and  unlearn  slavishly  to  limit 
ourselves  to  the  bidding  of  one  human  being. 
We  set  out  on  the  vast  ocean  of  love,  and  in  the 
contemplation  of  its  loveliness  beautiful  and 
precious  thoughts  are  born  in  us,  thoughts  of 
wisdom  and  purity,  and  we  become  strong  and 
mighty  in  realising  that  there  is  only  one  know- 
ledge worth  knowing  in  this  world,  and  that  is 
the  knowledge  of  the  beautiful. 

When  we  have  been  led  thus  far  into  the  realms 
of  love  and  approach  its  consummation,  we  sud- 
denly become  aware  of  a  something  which  is 
inexpressibly  beautiful,  the  contemplation  of 
which  compensates  us  for  all  the  trouble  we  have 
taken.  This  vision  of  beauty  is  infinite  and  im- 
perishable ;  it  neither  increases  nor  decreases  ; 
its  beauty  is  always  the  same  ;  it  has  neither 
countenance  nor  hands  nor  form  ;  neither  thought 
nor  speech  ;  it  is  not  bound  to  any  place  ;  it 
belongs  not  to  any  living  being  in  heaven  or 
earth  ;  it  is  self-existing,  eternally  the  same. 

Hast  thou  once  beheld  that  vision,  then  thou 
wilt  no  longer  crave  for  gold  and  raiment,  and 
the  pleasures  of  youth  which  now  enthral  thee 


88 


MYSTICISM 


until  thou  forgettest  to  eat  and  to  drink.  He 
who  has  seen  it,  in  its  unalloyed  purity  and  beauty, 
not  in  flesh  and  blood  or  other  vain  disguise, 
but  in  the  excellence  of  the  divine  unity,  thinkest 
thou  that  he  can  lead  an  evil  life  ? 

Thus  the  philosopher  catches  the  bird  which 
the  mystic  has  allowed  to  escape.  The  love  of 
youth  is  declared  to  be  the  mysterious  yearning 
of  the  soul  after  its  divine  origin  and  its  former 
blessed  existence;  and  in  that  condition  of 
enthusiastic  ecstasy,  it  is  possible  for  man  to 
think  himself  into  the  transcendent  realms  of 
love,  step  by  step  encompassing  higher  and 
more  superlative  perfections  :  the  state,  know- 
ledge, God. 

In  so  far  as  this  thinking  of  oneself  into  ever 
higher  regions  resembles  the  gradual  stages  of 
mysticism,  in  so  far  Plato  was  a  mystic.  But 
mysticism  has  for  its  object  the  attainment  of 
the  intensest  form  of  unconsciousness,  while  Plato 
aspires  at  the  highest  form  of  consciousness. 
Both  conditions  imply  the  being  carried  away 
in  mind  beyond  the  reach  of  material  surround- 
ings, but  Plato  nowhere  claims  the  loss  of  self- 
control  as  a  necessary  element. 

Plato  never  denies  that  man  stands  before  an 
inexpressible  inconceivable  problem,  if  he  would 
behold  the  invisible.  "It  is  hard,"  he  says,  in 
one  of  his  later  writings,  "  to  apprehend  the  All- 


GREEK  MYSTICISM 


89 


Father,  and  when  apprehended,  it  is  impossible 
to  interpret  Him."  But  this  does  not  imply  that 
logic  is  done  away  with.  Plato  is  saved  from 
sinking  into  mysticism  not  only  by  his  philo- 
sophical power  of  consciousness,  but  also  by  his 
unwavering  belief  in  the  indissoluble  personality 
of  the  human  ego.  This  conviction  he  expounds 
in  a  variety  of  ways,  and  he  holds  to  it  so  firmly 
that  even  where  he  admits  of  mania  he  never  con- 
cedes to  the  doctrine  of  the  dissolution  of  the 
soul,  an  error  into  which  the  true  mystic  inevitably 
falls.  At  the  same  time,  in  his  belief  that  every 
soul  is  a  separate  "  daimon,"  he  betrays  himself 
as  an  adept  student  of  Orphism. 

And  in  conclusion,  we  must  allude  to  Plato's 
idea  of   that   form   of    self-effacement   which   is 
a  part  of  all  genuine  mysticism,  and  is  based  on 
the  passing  away  of  consciousness.     We  refer  to 
asceticism,     Plato  deals  with  this  as  he  does  with 
ecstasy.     He  makes  use  of  its  good  properties, 
but  the  dross  he  throws  away.     He  accepts  the 
necessity  of  purification,  katharsis,  for  the  cultiva- 
tion of  good  thoughts  ;  and  he  acknowledges  that 
the  flesh  must  be  overcome  ;    but  he  is  a  Greek, 
he  loves  beauty.     The  beauty  of  form  and  the 
beauty  of  life  must  not  suffer  through  our  longing 
for  the  delights  of  heaven.     On  the  contrary,  our 
zeal,  instead  of  consuming  us,  should  rather  nourish 
us,  make  us  strong,  and  in  the  same  measure  as  it 


go 


MYSTICISM 


brings  us  nearer  to  human  excellence  it  should 
bring  us  nearer  to  divine  perfection. 

In  Plato,  mysticism  has  found  its  match,  a 
thinker  initiated  in  all  the  intricacies  of  mysticism, 
a  man  who  appropriates  its  wealth,  but  not  at  the 
cost  of  his  own  individuality  ;  who  rather  uses  its 
power  for  the  good  of  the  soul.  Plato  puts  the 
mysticism  of  personality  in  the  place  of  natural 
mysticism— therein  lies  the  difference  between 
West  and  East.  He  demands  moral  endeavour, 
where  the  other  exacts  self-effacement. 

Yet — we  shall  see  how  there  is  but  one  step 
between  Platonism  and  the  ecstatic  intuition  of 
mysticism ;  a  step  which  Plato  knew  how  to 
avoid,  but  which  his  followers  took  unwittingly, 
and  thus  easily  glided  into  mysticism.  The 
confusion  thereby  caused  in  Platonic  doctrines 
found  expression  in  the  philosophic  sect  of  the 
Neo-Platonists. 

In  considering  the  importance  of  Platonic 
philosophy,  we  must  bear  in  mind  what  it  brought 
forth,  to  what  varying  philosophical  and  religious 
transformations  it  gave  rise,  and  what  was  their 
influence,  not  only  on  the  philosophers  of  the  time, 
but  also  on  the  thinking  portion  of  the  populace. 
And  again,  in  trying  to  measure  Plato's  strength 
of  mind,  we  have  to  consider  to  what  a  very  small 
extent  his  many  disciples  were  capable  of  following 
him  in  his  exalted  flights  of  thought.     Strong  in 


GREEK  MYSTICISM  91 

the  power  of  his  own  personality  and  his  firm 
belief  in  the  rights  of  humanity,  Plato  was  able 
to  combine  into  one  grand  unity  all  the  various 
elements  of  his  philosophy,  its  logical,  physical, 
and  moral  principles,  and  even  the  things  which 
he  derived  from  the  popular  religion  and  its 
myths. 

He  managed  to  keep  all  these  things  well 
balanced,  because  he  kept  each  one  within  its 
proper  sphere,  and  gave  it  the  room  for  action 
which  it  deserved.  The  Neo-Platonists,  however, 
wanted  to  improve  on  his  structure,  extend  the 
horizon  still  farther,  introduce  still  more  vagaries 
into  his  system  of  philosophy,  be  more  logical 
and  more  popular  than  Plato  was,  ascend  still 
higher  and  descend  still  lower  than  he.  In  this 
endeavour  they  not  only  broke  through  the 
boundaries  of  true  Platonism,  but  they  lost  sight 
of  its  centre  of  activity.  Personality  lost  its 
power  the  farther  these  adventurers  advanced  in 
their  philosophical  speculations.  For  personality 
could  not  breathe  in  the  height  to  which  they 
carried  it,  and  it  sank  into  the  inertness  of  demon 
worship,  to  which  at  last  they  had  to  take  refuge  in 
order  to  extricate  themselves  from  their  difficulties. 

This  is  exemplified  even  in  the  noblest  of  them 
all,  in  Plotinus  (d.  276  a.d.),  the  finest  figure  among 
the  philosophers  of  the  time  of  the  Empire,  and 
Plato's  most  conscientious  follower.     And  because 


92 


MYSTICISM 


he  was  one  of  the  few  of  the  Neo-Platonic  school 
who  always  aimed  at  the  highest  and  despised 
all  that  was  base,  we  see  in  him  most  clearly 
how  the  next  step  of  Platonism  had  to  lead  into 
mysticism. 

The  God  of  Plato  was  not  good  enough  for 
Plotinus,  not  spiritual  enough  because  not  tran- 
scendental enough.  This  supreme  Unity,  which 
is  above  aU  and  in  all,  must  be  so  highly  exalted 
above  all  intelligence  that  it  can  think  no  thoughts. 
Plato  said  :  "  It  is  hard  to  apprehend  the  All- 
Father,  and  when  apprehended  it  is  impossible 
to  interpret  Him";  but  Plotinus  is  not  satisfied 
with  this.  He  says  it  is  impossible  to  apprehend 
the  Deity  ;  He  is  beyond  all  understanding.  One 
cannot  say  that  He  is  a  thinking  being;  He  is 
thought  itself.  That  which  can  be  thought  or  that 
which  can  think  is  a  composite  being,  it  must  have 
parts.  But  God  has  no  parts,  neither  quantity  nor 
quality,  it  is  one  indivisible  Unity.  Therefore 
away  with  Plato's  definition  of  God  as  '*  Highest 
Intelligence." 

Nor  is  He  to  be  described  as  the  "  Supreme 
Goodness,"  for  in  goodness  there  is  motion  and 
want — therefore  division.  One  cannot  say  of  this 
absolute  Unity  that  it  has  being  or  existence,  for 
all  that  exists  has  numerical  quantity.  With  such 
and  similar  mathematical  and  dialectical  sophisms 
Plotinus  places  his  God  beyond  the  reach  of  con- 


GREEK  MYSTICISM 


93 


ception,  and  this  had  a  harmful  effect  on  Christian 
theology.  Platonism  in  this  highest  potency  was 
attractive  to  the  mind  as  something  exquisitely 
sublime,  and  henceforth  no  theology  was  thought 
complete  unless  it  had  some  of  this  delectable  fare 
to  offer. 

Plato's  conception  of  the  Deity,  however,  was 
not  ignored,  it  merely  had  another  place  assigned 
to  it.  Plotinus  called  it  nus,  or  "Pure  Intelli- 
gence," and  he  attributed  to  this  conception  the 
quahties  which  he  denied  to  the  Highest,  namely, 
being  and  action,  thought  and  goodness.  It 
became  the  actual  and  practical  God  of  mankind, 
unless  man  had  sunk  so  low  that  he  had  to  be 
content  with  the  worship  of  the  demons  of  the 
popular  belief,  and  get  on  as  best  he  could  with 
their  assistance. 

For  the  world  is  a  kind  of  pyramid.  At  the  top 
is  the  inconceivable  Unity,  from  which  all  exist- 
ence emanates  in  ever  -  increasing  multiplicity, 
but  in  steadily  decreasing  value  and  reality. 
The  fundamental  idea  in  Platonism  is  that  highest 
spirituality  is  truest  reality.  The  lower  we  come 
down  to  what  we  are  accustomed  to  call  the 
realities  of  life,  the  less  reality  and  the  more 
delusion  and  vanity  we  find.  If  man  would 
rise  above  the  illusions  of  multiplicity,  one  way 
only  is  open  to  him.  He  must  fix  his  thoughts 
on  the  supreme  and  only  true  reality,  and  in 


III 


94 


MYSTICISM 


purity  of  life  and  piety  of  soul,  by  constant  medita- 
tion upon  the  origin  of  all  purity  and  goodness, 
enter  into  the  unity  and  peace  of  God. 

This  is  the  path  of  philosophy,  and  it  leads 
very  near  to  the  goal.  For  the  goal  of  philosophy 
is  to  obtain  salvation  by  contemplation.  Plotinus 
explains  in  even  clearer  terms  than  Plato  how 
and  why  man  must  work  out  his  salvation  by 
contemplation. 

The  nus  which  we  have  to  rise  up  to  is  intelli- 
gence itself,  the  highest  intelligence,  and  our 
intellect,  the  human  nus,  must  endeavour  to 
comprehend  and  to  share  this.  In  what  measure 
we  comprehend  the  Divine  Intelligence,  in  that 
measure  we  absorb  it  into  our  being  and  are  made 
partakers  of  its  supreme  qualities.  Our  own 
intelligence  becomes  spiritualised,  merged  into 
pure  thought  and  pure  goodness. 

Yet  this  does  not  fully  satisfy  Plotinus.  Witli 
the  Highest,  the  supreme  Source  of  all  things,  he 
desires  fellowship.  To  the  height  of  the  supreme 
Unity  he  would  rise  and  be  completely  freed 
from  the  confusion  of  multiplicity.  Now,  as  this 
supreme  Unity  is  exalted  far  above  all  thought, 
it  is  vain  to  attempt  to  reach  up  to  it  by  our 
apprehension.  Philosophy  fails  us  at  this  point- 
er, more  correctly,  it  can  help  us  only  to  climb  up 
to  the  highest  rung  of  the  ladder,  where  intelli- 
gence   stops,    and    the    sacred    unconsciousness 


GREEK  MYSTICISM 


95 


begins  in  which  multiplicity  and  diversity  of 
thought  ends,  and  we  become  united  with  the 
Unity. 

In  other  words  :   we  end  in  ecstasy,  and  this  is  \ 
what  the  entire  system  of  Plotinus  led  up  to. 
Plato's  God  did  not  suffice,  because  Plato  kept 
his  five  senses  together  and  endeavoured  to  teach 
the  people  to  do  the  same.    But  there  is  a  craving 
for  mysticism  in  human  nature,  and  a  supreme, 
mystical    Deity     had    to    be    conceived.     Meta- 
physics and  logic  had  to  give  way  before  the 
longing  of  the  soul,  and  finely  spun  consequences 
were  drawn  out  and  built  up  to  justify  the  claims 
of   an  inrooted  passion.     For  there  can  be  no 
doubt  about  it  that  the  condition  aimed  at  by 
Plotinus    was    mystical    ecstasy.      It    possessed 
all   the   unmistakable   signs  of   it.     It   was   the 
direct,  unmediated  consciousness,  as  if  by  personal 
contact  of  the  presence  of  the  Highest.    Suddenly 
the  soul  is  suffused  with  light,  which  flows  from 
God.     It  does  not  impart  any  knowledge  about 
God  ;  one  realises  thai  He  is,  but  not  what  He  is. 
It  is  a  state  of  being  outside  of  self,  God-inspired, 
capable   of    apprehending   the   workings   of   the 
divine  spirit  in  the  soul,  but  it  does  not  enable  one 
to  describe  what  He  is.      When  God  thus  sud- 
denly reveals  Himself  to  the  soul,  separateness 
exists    no    longer,    there    is    no    more    duality, 
but    only    one,    inseparable    unity.      The    soul 


il 


96 


MYSTICISM 


becomes  one  with  itself  and  one  with  God.  One 
cannot  now  say  that  the  soul  apprehends  God, 
but  rather  that  it  becomes  God.  The  soul  is  now 
pure  light,  free  from  all  earthly  trammels,  it 
apprehends  itself  as  God.^ 

Plotinus  teaches  that  the  road  which  leads  to 
this  condition  consists  in  purification,  moral 
abstinence,  utter  indifference  to  earthly  things, 
strict  self-examination.  One  cannot  pursue  this 
ecstatic  condition;  it  overtakes  one  suddenly, 
silently,  in  overpowering  grace,  as  a  reward  for 
trustful  waiting  and  watching.  Amelios,  one  of 
the  disciples  of  Plotinus,  tells  us  in  his  diary  what 
the  soul  experiences  at  such  times.  "  Like  a  dream 
which  trembles  and  dies  away,  at  the  approach  of 
dawn,  so  all  the  past  and  the  present  vanish. 
Former  consciousness  passes  away,  and  a  new 
consciousness  awakens.  I  feel  weak  and  empty 
as  one  just  recovering  from  an  illness  and  finds  his 
memory  gone.  My  travels,  my  studies,  my  plans 
and  ambitions,  all  are  as  nought.  All  strength  has 
been  taken  from  me  like  a  garment,  and  I  feel 
thrown  back  again  to  the  first  beginnings.'* 

In  such  open  epilepsy  Platonism  results  at  last. 
Greek  mysticism  has  run  its  course.  It  has  ended 
as  it  began,  in  convulsions.  In  the  course  of  its 
career,  however,  it  has  been  systematised  by  men 

1  Zeller,  Die  Philosophie  der  Griecheny  2nd  ed.  hi. 
2.  551. 


GREEK  MYSTICISM 


97 


of  noble  intellect.  Like  an  overwhelming  power 
forcing  the  human  mind  in  one  same  direction,  we 
notice  with  surprise  that  this  Greek  system  of 
philosophy  geometrically  agrees  with  the  thought- 
structure  of  Hindu  mysticism.  The  same  problems 
and  the  same  results  ;  the  same  extravagant,  specu- 
lative conceptions  :  apprehending  the  incompre- 
hensible; essential  similarity  between  the  divine 
and  the  human  spirit ;  and  finally,  the  consumma- 
tion of  bliss  in  the  union  of  these  two  beyond  the 
portals  of  consciousness. 

For  a  long  time  the  Greek  continued  to  show 
himself  in  his  demeanour  a  son  of  Hellenic  culture. 
Asceticism  never  had  quite  so  strong  a  hold  on  him 
as  on  the  Hindu.  He  took  care  of  his  body,  and 
only  prepared  himself  for  his  high  aspirations  by 
abstaining  from  vulgar  lusts  and  sensualities.  But 
this  last  link  with  ancient  culture  gradually 
loosened  also. 

Porphyrius  and  lamhlicus,  the  former  a  disciple 
of  Plotinus,  the  latter  a  forerunner  of  Syrian  piety, 
declare  war  to  the  body  and  teach  salvation  through 
a  system  of  self-renunciation  and  mantik  in  which 
the  customs  and  usages  of  the  East  occupy  so 
large  a  place,  that  in  the  teachings  of  these  sectarian 
leaders  one  can  hardly  find  any  trace  of  the  old 
Greek  spirit. 


lifMiiiiniiir''''^'*^-^'''^* 


VI.  NEW  TESTAMENT  CHRISTIANITY 

AND   MYSTICISM 

While  Greek  mysticism  was  thus  growing  rank  and 
wild,  a  refining  factor  was  at  work,  fostering  that 
inner  Hfe  which  could  scarcely  breathe  in  the  atmo- 
sphere of  heathen  mysticism.  Christianity  had 
undertaken  this  task,  not  only  with  fresh  youthful 
vigour,  but  under  quite  new  and  intimate  con- 
ditions, and  instituted  a  new  kind  of  piety  and  a 
new  form  of  culture. 

When  Christianity  was  sufficiently  crystallised 
to  be  made  into  a  doctrine,  many  were  surprised 
to  find  how  much  in  it  resembled  the  noblest 
thoughts  of  heathenism.  It  was  whispered  among 
the  crowds  opposed  to  Christianity  that  it  was 
merely  an  adaptation  of  Plato's  views,  and  that 
even  Christian  teachers  tried  to  give  weight  to  their 
assertions  by  pointing  out  similarities  between 
their  teachings  and  the  tenets  of  the  great  sage. 

In  our  days  one  is  not  so  easily  taken  in  by  these 
apparent  agreements;  on  the  contrary,  we  are 
keenly  ahve  to  the  fact  that  the  chief  character- 
istics of  Platonism  and  of  Christianity  are  very 


CHRISTIANITY  AND  MYSTICISM       99 

widely  apart.     Yet  there  is  a  region  in  which  the 
two  meet  as  on  common  ground.     For,  in  the  first 
place,  among  all  who  seek  the  highest,  there  exists 
of  necessity  a  certain  bond  of  fellowship ;  and,  in 
the  second  place,  Christianity,  by  its  conscious  and 
deliberate  breach  with  the  narrow-mindedness  of 
latter-day  Judaism,  and  by  boldly  proclaiming  the 
rights  of  mankind,  appears  in  many  points  to  agree 
with  the  doctrines  of  the  "humanities,"  which 
were  the  expression  of  the  noblest  thoughts  of 
decaying    antiquity.     Moreover,    philosophy    and 
Christianity  were  at  one  in  their  desire  to  elevate 
the  people  and  their  worship  above  the  existing 
polytheism  and  all  the  evils  incumbent  upon  it. 
But  there  was  a  marked  difference  between  the  two 
methods  employed.     What  philosophical  heathen- 
ism only  whispered  in  the  ears  of  the  initiated, 
Christianity  proclaimed  from  the  housetops.     The 
message  which  Christianity  brought  was  not   a 
Freemason  secret,  nor  a   philosophical   mystery, 
it  was  a  matter  of  vital  moment  for  all,  a  matter  of 
salvation  which  concerned  all  mankind. 

Underlying  Platonic  mysticism  there  existed 
something  which  flavoured  of  evangelical  truth. 
With  the  Gospel  this  something  came  to  light ;  not 
as  a  reflected  thought,  but  as  a  living  reality. 
Plato  had  grasped  something  of  the  eternal  re- 
sponsibility of  the  human  soul  and  of  eternal 
justice.    These    truths— gradually    lost    sight    of 


100 


MYSTICISM 


among  the  followers  of  Plato— came  to  light  again 
with  Christianity,  and  this  time  they  would  not  be 
forgotten.  They  became  the  dominating  power 
of  Christian  life  ;  the  individuality  of  man  was  a 
foregone  conclusion,  for  had  not  this  truth  been 
melted  and  moulded  in  the  forge  of  Judaism  ? 

To    the   Jews,    strong    in    the    consciousness 
of    their    national    exclusiveness,    individuality, 
although   recognised,   was  of  secondary  import- 
ance.    They  had   to   be   schooled   into   the   full 
realisation  that  every  man  is  personally  respons- 
ible before  God.    They  could  not  fail  to  under- 
stand this  sooner  or  later,  because  with  unwaver- 
ing   persistence    they  always    thought    of    their 
God  as  a   person.     They  never  made  a  graven 
image  of  Him,  but  in  thought  they  pictured  Him 
in  human  form,  with  such  intensity,  that  when  the 
prophets  had  elevated  their  thoughts  above  this 
human  conception  of  the  Deity,  His  Personality 
remained  irrevocably  fixed  in  their  minds.    The 
Jews  had  no  temptation  to  fall  either  into  pan- 
theism   or    mysticism.    The    children    of    Israel 
have  ever  been  practical,  energetic,  calculating  ; 
sober-minded  rather  than    fantastical.     The  Jew 
believes  in  realities,  God's  guidance  of  his  fathers, 
God's  guidance  of  himself.     All  the  fundamental 
ideas   of    his    religion    are    practical    and   real  : 
authority,  justice,  retribution.      How  sober  are 
the  arguments  of  Job's  friends,  those  spokesmen 


CHRISTIANITY  AND  MYSTICISM     loi 

of  traditional  Judaism.  And  Job  himself,  dis- 
puting with  them  from  the  experience  of  suffering, 
never  for  a  moment  loses  his  self-control. 

"  God  is  in  heaven  and  I  am  on  the  earth," 
marks  the  distance  between  God  and  man  for 
the  devout  Jew.  No  one  can  see  God  and  live, 
is  the  basis  of  genuine  Judaism.  The  prophets 
may  have  their  ecstasies,  their  trances,  their 
high  intuitions,  but  never  do  they  merge  into 
the  Godhead  nor  the  Godhead  into  them.  Schools 
of  prophets  may  go  through  the  land  dancing 
and  singing,  but  it  is  never  a  Dionysian  pro- 
cession. They  neither  eat  their  God  nor  become 
gods. 

The  culminating  point   in   the   experience   of 
the  believing  Jew  is  the  passion  of  faith.    The  will 
becomes  tenacious  and  strenuous,  and  this  activity 
of  the  will  enhances  the  feeling  of  personal  responsi- 
bility, and  gives  to  their  faith  and  to  the  God  in 
whom  they  believe  that  harshness  and  relentless- 
ness    which    characterises    and    disfigures    later 
Judaism.    Gradually,  as  the  Jews  became  imbued 
with   Greek   culture,   they  also   became   tainted 
with  mysticism,  but  this  mysticism  shows  to  a 
far  greater  extent  the  influence  of  the  intellectual 
life  of  the  Hellenes  than  of  the  religious  life  of 
the  Jews. 

Jesus  steps  forth  from  a  background  not  of 
mysticism,  but  of  personal  faith  ;    nay  more— 


102 


MYSTICISM 


judging  by  the  Pharisees  of  His  day — from  a 
background  of  clearly  defined  religious  indivi- 
dualism. And  what  Jesus  brings  is  not  mysticism, 
but  a  personal  faith,  only  it  is  of  a  higher  nature 
than  the  faith  thus  far  held,  it  is  not  bound  by 
law  or  nationality  ;  it  is  freed  from  egotism, 
superficiality,  and  sterility ;  it  is  spiritualised, 
intensified,  humanised. 

There  is  nothing  either  in  the  mind  of  Jesus 
or  in  His  zeal  that  can  properly  be  called  mysticism. 
Often  enough  mystics  have  desired  to  stamp  Him 
as  one  of  theirs.  In  His  daily  life  they  have 
tried  to  find  the  unmistakable  signs  of  mysticism. 
Like  the  mystic  He  has  His  moments  of  spiritual 
contemplation,  a  craving  for  solitude.  He  flees 
from  the  multitude,  goes  into  the  wilderness  to 
fast,  into  the  mountains  to  pray.  He  knows  no 
bodily  wants  when  His  mind  is  occupied  ;  He  is 
'*  troubled  in  spirit  "  when  He  speaks  with  force 
and  decision. 

Was  Jesus  an  ecstatic  ?  asks  a  modern  German 
theologian,^  and  with  much  trouble  he  collects 
evidence  which  will  enable  him  to  answer  in  the 
affirmative. 

Ina  French  criticism  on  this  book  of  Holtzmann's 
the  correctness  of  this  view  is  queried.     In  the 

1 0.  Holtzmann,  War  Jesus  Ekstatiker  ?  (Tubingen, 
Mohr,  1 903 .)  Reviewed  by  A.  Loisy  in  the  Revue  Critique, 
1903,  No.  23. 


CHRISTIANITY  AND  MYSTICISM     103 

Jesus  of  the  Bible,  or  at  any  rate  of  the  first 
three  Gospels,  there  is  nothing  which  warrants 
It.  We  find  therein  nothing  pathological,  nothing 
ecstatic  in  the  true  sense  of  the  word  ;  nothing 
of  that  clouding  over  or  upsetting  of  the  human 
wiU.  But  we  do  find  that  exquisitely  exalted 
condition  of  soul  with  which  all  creative  geniuses 
and  more  especially  religious  enthusiasts  are 
acquainted. 

In  the  conduct  and  the  teaching  of  Jesus  traces 
of  mysticism  are  also  declared  to  exist.  For 
Him  blessedness  is  to  be  found  in  the  inner  life, 
and  He  has  little  to  say  of  things  outward ;  He 
IS  silent  about  culture;  He  wages  war  against 
outward  ceremonies  and  external  piety,  against 
traditional  obligations  and  authorities.  In  all 
this  He  is  like  the  mystic.  The  lowly  and  the 
poor  in  spirit  He  calls  blessed  to  the  detriment 
of  the  rich.  The  things  that  are  hidden  from 
the  wise  are  revealed  unto  babes.  Quiet  hearken- 
mg  is  nearer  to  heaven  than  much  serving.  Piety 
is  to  be  measured  by  its  intensity,  not  by  its 
works.  And  then  He  utters  those  words  which 
find  an  echo  in  the  mystic's  mind:    "Blessed 

are  the  pure  in  heart,  for  they  shall  see  God."  .  .  . 
'^'The  kingdom  of  God  is  within  you."  .  .  . 
"  Whosoever  seeks  to  save  his  life  shall  lose  it." 
The  whole  Sermon  on  the  Mount,  in  fact,  is  as  a 
piece  out  of  the  programme  of  the  mystic. 


104 


MYSTICISM 


All  this  may  sound  like  mysticism;  and  had 
Christ  said  nothing  beyond  this,  we  should  have 
to  assign  Him  a  place  among  the  mystics.  But 
He  has  said  a  great  deal  more  and  done  a  great 
deal  more,  which  is  entirely  outside  the  scope  of 
mysticism.  Because  two  circles  cross  each  other, 
it  does  not  necessarily  follow  that  they  merge 
into  one  another.  Doubtless  there  is  a  region 
in  which  Gospel  and  mysticism  meet.  The 
strikingly  evangelical  note  in  the  works  of  Laotze, 
of  the  Persian  sages,  of  Plato,  are  sufficient  proof 
of  this.  But  the  question  is  :  What  is  peculiarly 
characteristic  in  each  one  of  them,  what  are  their 
distinctive  properties,  and  wherein  they  fall 
short  ?  What,  in  fact,  are  their  pretensions  out- 
side the  pale  of  this  common  ground  ? 

Christianity  has  much  to  offer  in  this  respect. 
Its  Gospel  is  a  life  of  love  ;  not  a  life  of  rapturous 
emotion,  as  in  mystic  circles ;  still  less  does  it 
speak  of  the  characteristic  mystical  aversion  to 
society.  No,  our  life  must  be  one  of  active, 
untiring  charity,  of  brotherly  love,  and  constant 
intercourse  with  our  fellow-men,  under  all  the 
usual  conditions  of  everyday  life.  It  speaks 
also  of  sin  and  of  grace,  of  a  warfare  with  the  Evil 
One  as  with  a  personal  enemy.  Evil  is  a  power 
outside  of  us,  attacking  us  and  compelling  us  to 
fight  or  to  yield.  It  is  not  the  lower  nature  in 
man  which  can  be  conquered  by  the  subjugation 


CHRISTIANITY  AND  MYSTICISM     105 

of  one's  human  nature.     Sin  is  not  synonymous 
with  "  the  flesh,"  is  not  the  blind,  natural  tendency 
of  sensual  man ;   it  is  a  conscious  violation  of  the 
explicit    commandments    of    God,    or   a   turning 
away  from    His    redeeming    grace.     Redemption 
is  not  a  raising  of  self  on  to  a  higher  plane,  or  into 
a  higher  condition,  but  it  is  the  forgiveness  of  sin, 
a  free,  personal  act  of  grace  of  the  Judge  of  all 
men.     And   then  it   speaks   of  faith,   the   divine 
will-power,  with  its  boldness,  its  confidence,  and 
its  pride  ;    faith  in  the  kingdom  of  God  and  in 
the  wiU  of  God ;   the  faith  of  a  little  chHd  in  the 
Father's  love.     Children  of  God,  that  is  the  only 
relationship  towards  God  which  is  recognised  in 
the    Gospel.     "  The    same    Spirit    bears   witness 
with   our  spirit  "—not   that  we  are   God,  but— 
"  that  we  are  the  children  of  God." 

All  this  is  personal,  intimate ;  it  breathes  free- 
dom ;  it  is  conscious  discrimination,  and  therefore 
not  mysticism.  The  responsibilities  and  natural 
conditions  of  life  are  not  lost  in  rapture  or  specu- 
lation. They  remain  in  evidence.  The  difference 
between  good  and  evil,  between  God  and  man,  between 
spirit  and  nature,  remains  unalterably  fixed.  The 
Gospel  does  not  seek  to  level  these  differences, 
but  to  annul  their  possible  consequences,  by 
establishing  a  relationship;  that  is,  a  fellowship 
of  goodness,  a  fellowship  with  God ;  fellowship, 
not  union)    therein  lies  the  essential  difference 


io6 


MYSTICISM 


between  Christianity  and  mysticism.  Fellow- 
ship is  not  merely  an  internal  act ;  it  also 
takes  account  of  the  outer  world,  with  all  our 
visible  and  tangible  surroundings.  Fellowship  is 
a  matter  of  will ;  it  cannot  be  built  on  a  founda- 
tion of  feeling  alone,  and  still  less  on  meditation. 
Fellowship  demands  faith  :  faith  in  men,  faith 
in  what  is  good,  confidence  in  God.  It  lies  in 
the  nature  of  mysticism  that  there  should  not  be 
room  either  for  the  outer  world,  or  for  the  will, 
or  for  faith.  And  it  lies  in  the  nature  of  Christi- 
anity that  there  should  be  no  room  for  the  true 
characteristics  of  mysticism.  The  clover  leaf, 
ecstacy,  asceticism,  intuition,  cannot  grow  in 
Christian  soil.  For  these  three  factors  imply 
an  ultimate  union  with  God  which  can  only  be 
attained  by  abstract  thought,  and  generally  at 
the  cost  of  one's  human  nature.  Although  a 
grand  mysticism,  such  as  that  of  Plato,  falls  short 
of  committing  this  latter  mistake,  and  advocates 
the  ennobling  of  human  nature  instead  of  ignor- 
ing it,  yet  the  fundamental  difference  between 
Platonism  and  Christianity  remains  the  same, 
for  the  Platonist  thinks  out  his  salvation,  but  the 
Christian  is  saved  by  faith.  And  this  is  not  only 
Platonic  as  opposed  to  Christian,  it  is  Greek  as 
opposed  to  Jewish,  Arian  as  opposed  to  Semitic. 

Moments  of  racial  and  cultural  conflict  neces- 
sarily  arose    frequently  after  Christianity  made 


CHRISTIANITY  AND  MYSTICISM     107 

its  entrance  into  Europe,  but  gradually  the 
new  religion  gained  the  mastery  over  the  in- 
rooted  notions  of  heathendom.  In  these  conflicts 
mysticism  always  played  a  part,  and  showed  in 
a  peculiar  manner,  either  when  Christianity  was 
losing  its  hold,  or  when  it  had  gained  a  firmer 
footing  again. 

As  long  as  the  Christian  Church  abode  in  its 
apostolic  strength,  personal  faith  was  the  highest 
form  of  life,  and  the  only  expression  of  the  re- 
lationship towards  God.  There  was  no  room  for 
real  mysticism.  Yet  symptoms  of  its  future 
power  began  to  appear,  and  became  especially 
perceptible  when  Christianity  had  taken  root  in 
Greek  soil.  Ecstasy  was  the  first  malady  which 
attacked  the  Church, — as  seen  in  the  Church  at 
Corinth.  Speaking  in  tongues  and  prophesying 
were  the  sure  symptoms  of  a  darkening  of  the 
understanding,  but  they  were  religiously  effective, 
and  highly  esteemed  among  the  believers. 

Paul  stands  up  manfully  against  this  departure 
from  their  first  love.  He  realises  what  he  has  to 
fight  against.  Paul,  the  man  of  faith,  had  been 
tried  in  the  furnace  of  faith.  He  had  tasted  of 
rapture,  he  had  felt  the  exalting  influence  of 
ecstatic  delight,  but  he  had  risen  above  it.  What 
happened  to  him  on  the  way  to  Damascus  is  not 
without  its  counterpart  in  other  ecstatic  con- 
versions, which  in  point  of  time  are  nearer  to  us. 


io8 


MYSTICISM 


The  modern  Jew,  Ratisbonne, — if  we  may  credit 
his  words, — was,  after  long  resistance,  by  special 
revelation,  suddenly  converted  to  Roman  Catholi- 
cism ;  and  he  describes  exactly  the  same  ex- 
periences as  befel  Paul,  including  the  blindness. 
Yet — let  us  bear  in  mind  that  Saul  did  not  become 
Paul  because  of  the  revelations  he  received,  but 
because  of  what  those  revelations  contained. 

One  undoubtedly  ecstatic  experience  Paul  relates 
in  2  Cor.  xii.     It  has  all  the  symptoms  of  mystical 
rapture.     He  speaks  of  himself  in  the  third  person  ; 
he  cannot  tell  whether  he  is  in  the  body  or  out  of 
the   body ;     he   feels   himself  caught   up   into   a 
higher  sphere  ;   he  hears  unspeakable  words  which 
no  man  can  utter.     But— what  Christian  strength 
he  brings  back  from  this  experience  !     In  the  same 
breath,  as  it  were,  come  the  words  :    *'  My  grace 
is  sufficient  for  thee,   for  My  strength  is  made 
perfect  in  weakness."     Incomprehensible  as  they 
may   sound  to  those  who  have  not   themselves 
had  Christian  experiences,  they  put  the  seal  to  all 
his  preaching  about  the  unprofitableness  of  boast- 
ing, and  explain  why  he  made  it  his  special  mission 
to  proclaim  this  truth. 

And  now  his  advice  to  the  Church  at  Corinth  : 
Boast  not  of  ecstasy  !  I  can  speak  both  in  pro- 
phecy and  in  tongues,  but  of  what  profit  are 
these  things  compared  with  the  power  and  the 
inexhaustible  riches  of  a  life  of  charity  ?     Therein 


CHRISTIANITY  AND  MYSTICISM    109 

is  truth,  therein  is  health,  therein  is  what  is 
greater  than  both  faith  and  hope,  and  whatever 
other  virtue  Christianity  can  bestow  on  us.  And 
in  the  light  of  this  assurance,  the  sayings  and 
teachings  of  Paul,  which  often  sound  mystical, 
are  not  real  mysticism. 

"  The  deep  things  of  God  "  into  which  the 
Spirit  searcheth  ;  "  our  life  which  is  hid  in  God  "  ; 
"  what  no  eye  hath  seen  and  no  ear  heard,  neither 
hath  entered  into  any  man's  mind "  ;  nature 
groaning  for  redemption,  and  the  Spirit  making 
intercession  for  us  ''  with  groanings  which  cannot 
be  uttered." 

These  and  many  other  of  Paul's  sayings  reveal 
touches  of  mysticism,  and  show  decided  mystical 
fermentation.  Christianity  has  succeeded  in 
leading  him  thus  far  away  from  the  dryness  of 
Rabbinism,  but  he  neyer  lets  go  his  common 
sense.  He  would  rather  speak  than  groan  ;  he 
wants  to  search  out  the  hidden  things  ;  he  is  not 
drowned  in  the  deep  things  of  God,  nor  does  he 
mix  up  his  own  redemption  with  the  redemption 
of  nature.  He  never  loses  sight  of  the  personal 
either  in  God  or  in  himself.  His  is  merely  a  richly 
gifted  nature,  capable  of  realising  that  there  are 
depths  which  human  understanding  cannot  fathom. 
There  is  one  expression  of  Paul's,  however, 
which  seems  to  imply  actual  mysticism,  at  any 
rate  it  became    the    keynote  of    the  mysticism 


no 


MYSTICISM 


I?  If 
4ii 


soon  after  springing  up  in  the  Greek  Church.  I 
refer  to  those  enthusiastic  words  in  the  Epistle 
to  the  Galatians  :  ''  Nevertheless  I  live  ;  yet  not 
I,  but  Christ  liveth  in  me  "  (Gal.  ii.  20) ;  and  he 
declares  in  the  same  Epistle  (i.  16)  that  it  pleased 
God  "  to  reveal  His  Son  in  me.*'  In  our  day 
these  words  convey  the  idea  of  an  ardent  desire, 
an  earnest  resolve  to  make  Christ  the  basis  of  our 
lives.  But  this  is  a  modern  interpretation ;  Paul 
surely  meant  something  much  more  realistic.  In 
this  Epistle  he  compares  his  own  experiences  of 
Christ  with  the  companionship  the  other  apostles 
had  with  the  "  Master,"  and  he  attributes  the 
same  reality,  or  at  all  events  the  same  authority, 
to  his  personal  revelations  as  to  their  historical 
intercourse  with  Christ.  And  when  he  tells  the 
converts  that  Christ  lives  in  him,  this  should  also 
be  taken  as  a  real  thing.  Something  in  Paul's 
psychology  betrays  his  conviction  that  what 
takes  place  in  the  heart  of  the  believer  is  not 
merely  a  psychical  emotion  or  experience,  but 
that  it  is  an  actual  spiritual  growth  ;  he  holds  that 
man  can  receive  a  new  soul,  and  on  this  ground 
he  considers  it  no  psychological  impossibility  that 
Christ  should  dwell  in  man.  But  another  question 
is — and  this  we  cannot  answer — how  far  Paul 
thought  this  indwelling  of  Christ  could  extend. 

We  are  sure,  however,  that  Paul,  in  the  transport 
of  his  assurance  of  faith,  came  perilously  near  to 


CHRISTIANITY  AND  MYSTICISM     iii 

the  borders  of  mysticism,  and,  as  was  the  case 
with  Plato,  one  step^  farther  would  have  landed 
him  into  the  forbidden  region.  The  Greek  Church 
took  this  fatal  step,  and  drifted  ever  farther  away 
on  the  dangerous  path. 

In  another  direction  also  the  way  for  mysticism 
was  being  prepared  in  the  apostolic  Church.  In 
the  Gospel  of  John  we  find  no  violent  emotion, 
no  psychological  losing  of  self  in  ecstasy,  but  a 
sublime  depth  of  meditation  on  the  Person  of  the 
Godhead,  and  His  revelations  to  men  ;  on  the 
incarnate  Son  of  God,  and  on  the  divine  element 
in  man.  In  all  this  the  evangelist  appears  to  have 
a  leaning  towards  Hellenic  mysticism.  "  To  know 
God  "  is  the  first  and  chief  stipulation.  Practical 
"  faith  "  is  raised  on  to  a  higher  platform  as 
personal  knowledge,  or,  at  the  least,  an  inner 
perception.  God  is  defined  as  a  Spirit  who  has 
to  be  worshipped  "  in  spirit  and  in  truth."  And 
finally  God-incarnate  declares  Himself  in  the 
words :  "  I  and  the  Father  are  one."  These 
words  of  John  reverberate  through  all  the  phases 
of  Christian  mysticism,  together  with  those  of 
Paul,  "  Christ  lives  in  me."  The  theoretical 
condition  of  existence  is  taken  from  John,  the 
practical  condition  of  life  from  Paul. 

The  unity  here  expressed  does  not  refer  only 
to  the  oneness  of  the  incarnate  Word  with  the 
Father  ;  it  also  expresses  the  fellowship  of  the 


m 


hit 


Is 


112 


MYSTICISM 


faithful  with  the  Son  of  God  :  "  That  they  all  may 
be  one,  as  Thou,  Father,  art  in  Me  and  I  in  Thee, 
that  they  also  may  be  one  in  Us — I  in  them  and 
Thou  in  Me,  that  they  may  be  made  perfect  in  one." 
Unto  mystica  was  the  name  given  by  the  early 
Church  to  this  union  of  love  as  declared  by  John. 
And  no  purer  symbol  of  this  mystical  union  can 
be  conceived  than  the  Parable  of  the  Vine.  **  I 
am  the  vine,  ye  are  the  branches.  Abide  in  Me, 
and  I  in  you  ;  as  the  branch  cannot  bear  fruit  of 
itself  except  it  abide  in  the  vine,  no  more  can  ye, 
except  ye  abide  in  Me." 

In  this  train  of  thought  great  weight  is  neces- 
sarily attached  to  the  Incarnation,  to  the  fact  that 
the  Divine  Majesty  assumed  human  form,  that 
'*  the  Word  became  flesh  and  dwelt  among  us." 
While  Paul  pleads  Christ's  death  as  the  one 
superlative  event,  John  dwells  on  His  birth,  His 
leaving  the  everlasting  glory  which  He  had  with 
the  Father,  to  become  man ;  a  sure  guarantee 
for  the  purpose  He  came  to  accomplish  and  the 
truth  of  His  teachings.  John's  picture  of  Christ 
sets  forth  the  union  of  the  divine  and  the  human, 
it  is  the  link  which  unites  God  and  man :  **  Thou 
in  Me  and  I  in  Thee,  that  they  also  may  be  one  in 
Us." 

In  order  to  give  a  Greek  stamp  to  his  medita- 
tions, he  introduces  the  word  *'  logos  "  in  the  pro- 
logue to  his  Gospel,  and  there  only,     togos — in 


CHRISTIANITY  AND  MYSTICISM     113 

our  Bible  translated  by  "Word "  —  was  the 
expression  used  in  the  Jewish  Greek  Church  to 
define  the  Godhead  which  has  become  flesh. 
And  here  we  stand  face  to  face  with  the  semi- 
Platonic  reflection  that  it  is  not  God  Himself 
who  becomes  man,  but  a  consubstantial  being, 
a  Mediator  through  whom  the  desired  union  is 
accomplished.  In  saying  this,  however,  we  do 
not  wish  to  imply  that  the  prologue  to  the  Gospel 
of  John  can  be  brought  under  the  rubric  of  one 
or  other  of  the  Platonic  schools. 

It  would  seem  unavoidable  to  see  in  this  Fourth 
Gospel    a    strong    tendency    towards    Hellenic 
mysticism.     "  Knowledge,"  ''  oneness,"  ''  spirit," 
''truth,"    the    ever  -  recurring    words    in    Greek 
devotion,   have   here   been   substituted    for   the 
sober   Christian   expressions:     faith,   fellowship, 
personality,    conviction.      Yes,    this    might    be 
said,  and  many  have  said  it,  and  for  the  sake  of 
argument  it  has  its  worth,  but  in  reality  it  is  mis- 
taking the  clothes  for  the  man.     With  a   little 
deeper  insight  into  mysticism,  we  easily  discover 
that  the  mysticism  of  this  book  lies  in  the  expres- 
sion  of  it,  but  not  in  the  sense.    For  instance, 
when,  in  chapter  iv.  24,  God  is  declared  to  be  a 
Spirit,  this  is  merely  in  elucidation  of  His  person- 
ality, for  in  the  immediately  preceding  verse  He 
is  called  -  Father,"  and  by  this  name  He  is  known 
throughout  the  Gospel,  whHe  the  definition  "Spirit " 

o 


114 


MYSTICISM 


occurs  only  seldom.  Nor  is  there  any  reason 
why  the  '*  oneness  "  spoken  of  should  be  taken 
in  the  literal,  mystical  sense  of  the  word.  John 
nowhere  asserts  in  his  Gospel  that  the  believer 
must  be  swallowed  up  in  God,  or  that  God  should 
be  absorbed  in  him.  The  Parable  of  the  Vine 
conveys  the  idea  of  intimacy,  fellowship,  not 
identity.  This  unto  mystica  does  not  destroy 
human  nature,  but  elevates  it ;  it  is  nowhere 
written  that  it  should  be  at  the  cost  of  conscious- 
ness or  sound  common  sense. 

And  the  same  with  the  *'  to  know  '*  of  John's 
Gospel.  Inge  strikingly  remarks  that  in  this 
Gospel  only  the  verb  '*  to  know  "  is  used,  but  not 
the  noun  gnosis,  which  latter  at  once  leads  us  into 
a  sphere  of  Grecism.  This  *'  to  know  "  of  the 
Gospel  is  on  a  level  with  the  word  *'  to  believe  "  ; 
they  are  words  of  equal  value  in  their  adaptation 
to  our  intercourse  with  God.  It  would  be  mysti- 
cism if  faith  were  regarded  as  a  step  towards 
knowledge,  and  knowledge  a^ain  leading  a  step 
nearer  to  God,  but  only  coming  into  effect  beyond 
the  border-line  of  human  consciousness. 

In  conclusion,  the  incarnation  would  be  mysti- 
cism if  the  Gospel  did  not  persistently  uphold  its 
historical  character.  Yet  we  are  not  to  suppose 
that  it  is  merely  symbolical  or  semi-real,  as  the 
disclaimers  of  John  would  have  us  to  believe. 
No,  ''  we  have  seen,  we  have  touched  "  ;    real 


CHRISTIANITY  AND  MYSTICISM     115 

blood  and  water  flowed  out  of  His  side.     Notwith- 
standmg  the  mystical  glamour  which  prevaHs  in 
this  Fourth  Gospel,  there  is  a  conscious  and  in- 
tentional  bringing  into  prominence  of  the  historical 
and  real  personality  of    Christ,   which  keeps  it 
totally  free   from  ordinary    mysticism.     On  the 
other  hand,  we  cannot  ignore  the  fact  that  the 
mysticism  which  soon  sprang   up  and  flourished 
in  the  Eastern  Church,  was  chiefly  based~and 
with  a  certain  amount  of  right^upon  this  Gospel. 
The  speculative  ring  of  the  prologue  and  the  wording 
of  the  Gospel  itself  sufficiently  account  for  the  wide 
use  made  of  it  in  the  fanciful  theological  mysti- 
cism of  the  day,  when  a  far  deeper  meaning  was 
put  into  the  formula,  "I  and  the  Father,"  than 
John  would  ever  have  sanctioned. 

Through  the  abortive  use  of  the  Gospel  words 
many  heathen  notions  were  rehabilitated  with  an 
assumption  of  Christianity ;    but  in  spite  of  this 
misuse  It  was  of  incalculable  importance  for   the 
growth  of  the  early  Christian  Church,  that   by 
means  of  it  a  link  was  formed  with  the    Greek 
world  in  which  Christianity  was  slowly    making 
Its  way.     The  mystical  language  spoken  in    the 
Church  was  familiar  to  the  learned  scholars  of  the 
land,  and  thus  the  union  between  young  Christi- 
anity and  staid  Greek  culture  could  be  accom- 
pushed. 


VII.  THE  MYSTICISM   OF  THE 
GREEK  CHURCH 

The  transition  from  apostolic  piety  to  theolo- 
gical mysticism  was  foreshadowed  even  in  Christ's 
lifetime  by  the  teachings  of  some  learned  Jews  in 
Alexandria,  who  endeavoured  to  reconcile  Eastern 
notions  and  Western  thought,  probably  primarily 
with  the  idea  of  establishing  the  right  of  existence 
of  Judaism  in  the  Capital  of  Hellenic  culture. 
There,  in  modest  retirement,  lived  the  Jew  Philo, 
a  musing  scribe,  to  whom  occasional  flashes  of 
genius  cannot  be  denied,  but  who  possessed  no 
real  literary  talent,  was  superstitious  and  dilet- 
tantish. Yet  he  was  the  man  first  to  put  into 
words  what,  for  centuries  to  come,  was  to  form 
the  bulwark  of  the  Neo-Platonic  school.  With 
Moses  in  the  one  hand  and  Plato  in  the  other, 
he  tried  to  make  a  bargain  between  the  two  by 
deducing  Platonic  teaching  from  the  writings  of 
Moses,  and  by  converting  law  and  revelation  into 
philosophy  and  science.  He  did  so  by  specula- 
tion, and  his  speculation  was  mysticism.  Not 
that  he  betrayed  the  God  of  his  fathers  ;   on  the 

ii6 


MYSTICISM  OF  THE  GREEK  CHURCH     117 

contrary,  God  was  very  real  to  him,  as  the  God 
revealed   by   Moses.     Yet,  to  comprehend   Him 
or  explain  Him,  he  resorted  to  Platonism.     God 
IS  that  which  abides  for  ever,  the  inexpressible 
the  unapproachable  :    ''  Thou  shalt  see  My  back 
parts,  but  My  face  shall  not  be  seen."     Only  in 
sHent   contemplation   can   God  be  apprehended 
for  we  know  of  nothing  whereby  to  compare  Him! 
If  we  are  to  know  Him  He  must  be  within  us.     He 
breathed  the  breath  of  life  into  us,  and  with  it 
something  of  His  own  nature,  and  He  is  the  earnest 
of  the  highest   in  us.     The  inspired  person,   in 
whom  God  has  verily  breathed  of  His  breath,  can, 
with  full  confidence,  say  that  he  is  God.     This 
climax  has  to  be  prepared  for  by  self-renunciation, 
and  by  studying  the  divine  in  nature.     Only  to 
the  highest  order  of  saints,  to  the  ''  souls  born  of 
God,"  it  has  been  given  to  apprehend  God  without 
the  aid  of  external  things ;   they  are  thus  exalted 
above  the  help  of  symbols.     But  into  this  highest 
sphere  only  those  can  be  admitted  who,  through 
purity   of  life,   have   been    found   worthy.     And 
purity  necessarily  involves  self-sacrifice.     Purified 
and    energised,    the    human    soul    can    ascend 
the  Mount  of  Contemplation ;  there  it  loses  con- 
sciousness of  self,  for  there  it  sees  God  face  to  face. 
There  He  is  apprehended,  not  by  the  powers  of 
the  intellect,  but  by  direct  intuition. 
This  mystical  apprehension  of  God  is  based  on 


VII.  THE  MYSTICISM  OF  THE 
GREEK  CHURCH 

The  transition  from  apostolic  piety  to  theolo- 
gical mysticism  was  foreshadowed  even  in  Christ's 
lifetime  by  the  teachings  of  some  learned  Jews  in 
Alexandria,  who  endeavoured  to  reconcile  Eastern 
notions  and  Western  thought,  probably  primarily 
with  the  idea  of  establishing  the  right  of  existence 
of  Judaism  in  the  Capital  of  Hellenic  culture. 
There,  in  modest  retirement,  lived  the  Jew  Philo, 
a  musing  scribe,  to  whom  occasional  flashes  of 
genius  cannot  be  denied,  but  who  possessed  no 
real  literary  talent,  was  superstitious  and  dilet- 
tantish. Yet  he  was  the  man  first  to  put  into 
words  what,  for  centuries  to  come,  was  to  form 
the  bulwark  of  the  Neo-Platonic  school.  With 
Moses  in  the  one  hand  and  Plato  in  the  other, 
he  tried  to  make  a  bargain  between  the  two  by 
deducing  Platonic  teaching  from  the  writings  of 
Moses,  and  by  converting  law  and  revelation  into 
philosophy  and  science.  He  did  so  by  specula- 
tion, and  his  speculation  was  mysticism.  Not 
that  he  betrayed  the  God  of  his  fathers ;   on  the 

ii6 


MYSTICISM  OF  THE  GREEK  CHURCH     117 

contrary,  God  was  very  real  to  him,  as  the  God 
revealed   by   Moses.     Yet,  to  comprehend   Him 
or  explain  Him,  he  resorted  to  Platonism.     God 
is  that  which  abides  for  ever,  the  inexpressible 
the  unapproachable  :    ''  Thou  shalt  see  My  back 
parts,  but  My  face  shaU  not  be  seen."    Only  in 
sHent   contemplation   can   God  be  apprehended 
for  we  know  of  nothing  whereby  to  compare  Him! 
If  we  are  to  know  Him  He  must  be  within  us.     He 
breathed  the  breath  of  life  into  us,  and  with  it 
something  of  His  own  nature,  and  He  is  the  earnest 
of  the  highest  in  us.     The  inspired  person,   in 
whom  God  has  verily  breathed  of  His  breath,  can, 
with  full  confidence,  say  that  he  is  God.     This 
climax  has  to  be  prepared  for  by  self-renunciation, 
and  by  studying  the  divine  in  nature.     Only  to 
the  highest  order  of  saints,  to  the  "  souls  born  of 
God,"  it  has  been  given  to  apprehend  God  without 
the  aid  of  external  things ;   they  are  thus  exalted 
above  the  help  of  symbols.     But  into  this  highest 
sphere  only  those  can  be  admitted  who,  through 
purity   of  life,   have   been    found   worthy.     And 
purity  necessarily  involves  self-sacrifice.     Purified 
and    energised,    the    human    soul    can    ascend 
the  Mount  of  Contemplation ;  there  it  loses  con- 
sciousness of  self,  for  there  it  sees  God  face  to  face. 
There  He  is  apprehended,  not  by  the  powers  of 
the  intellect,  but  by  direct  intuition. 
This  mystical  apprehension  of  God  is  based  on 


igiiJiltorifift<Mailillililhim«i«*fcaiSfc  MMJiaBiiaMtW'-""-'-^::^ 


ii8 


MYSTICISM 


the  notion  that  all  things  ultimately  flow  back  to 
God,  and  the  active  factor  in  the  Godhead,  the 
creative  power  by  whom  all  things  are,  is  the  logos 
(or  pure  intelligence).  Philo,  like  Plato,  and 
afterwards  the  Neo-Platonists,  made  this  logos 
into  an  inferior  deity,  the  one  with  whom  man 
has  to  do.  Here  again  Philo  detects  a  resem- 
blance between  Moses  and  Plato,  for  what  Plato 
calls  the  *'  supreme  idea,*'  Moses  calls  the  **  angel 
of  the  Lord,"  and  Philo,  by  describing  him  as 
*'  God's  only  beloved  Son,"  built  a  bridge  which, 
presently,  was  to  be  of  much  service  in  Christian 
speculation. 

Alexandria  continued  to  be  the  city  where  most 
of  these  things  were  reasoned  out,  and  it  is  in- 
teresting to  note  how  persistently  the  Christian 
thinkers,  in  their  desire  to  find  a  bond  between 
science  and  revelation,  chose  the  same  path  which 
the  Alexandrian  Jew  had  trod. 

Constantly  the  teachers  of  Christianity  had  to 
guard  against  the  attacks  of  the  Gentiles,  and 
even  more  against  the  dangerous  insinuations  of 
the  still  semi-Gentile  Christian  sects.  The  old 
defenders  of  the  Christian  faith  have  fought 
honestly  against  all  this  open  and  secret  heathen- 
ism. By  this  time  the  dogmas  of  Christianity 
had  so  far  been  formulated,  that  not  only  the 
teachers  were  keenly  alive  to  the  difference  be- 
tween their  views  and  those  of  the  Gentiles,  but 


MYSTICISM  OF  THE  GREEK  CHURCH     119 

that  the  laity  also  realised  what  was  expected  of 
them.  The  Fathers  of  the  Church,  Tertullian  and 
Irenæus,  stood  firm  as  watchmen  of  the  Western 
Church,  and  the  short  formula  called  *' the 
Apostles'  Creed  "—to  which  Irenæus,  in  accordance 
with  the  demands  of  those  days,  attributed 
Apostolic  sanction—became  for  all  times,  at  any 
rate  in  the  Western  Church,  a  stronghold  against 
the  attempts  of  the  Gentile  world  to  efface  or 
defeat  Christianity. 

Protected  by  such  clearly-marked  boundaries, 
and  strong  in  the  greater  stability  of  its  internal 
arrangements,  the  Church  began  to  take  a  kindlier 
view  of  the  cultural  advantages  the  Gentile  world 
afforded,  and  even  made  use  of  them  in  building 
up  the  edifice  of  Christianity.  The  world  should 
see  that  the  Church  was  a  well-organised,  compact 
body,  and  that  its  views  were  quite  as  intelligent, 
only  much  deeper,  than  those  of  any  heathen 
system.  This  early  attempt  at  Christian  theology 
was  made  in  Alexandria  by  the  first  theological 
faculty  of  Christendom. 

Clement  of  Alexandria  was  the  man  who  took 
the  initiative,  by  planning  a  system  of  such  magni- 
tude as  has  hardly  been  equalled  by  any  later 
theologian.  His  intention  was  not  only  to 
formulate  the  Christian  faith,  but  to  give  an 
exposition  of  the  Christian  verities  which  would 
appeal  also  to  the  intellect  and  the  moral  require- 


120 


MYSTICISM 


ments  of  the  Gentiles,  a  system  in  which  they 
would  find  everything  that  mind  and  soul  could 
desire. 

This  edifice— fragmentary  though  it  was  as  it 
left  the  hands  of  Clement — clearly  showed  that 
its  foundation  was  Christ,   that   its  beams  and 
stones  were  taken  from  the  Bible,   but  it  also 
showed  that  its  construction  and  the  mortar  which 
bound  the  whole  together  were  of  Hellenic  com- 
position.    Not  only  is  Plato  constantly  referred 
to   as   the   great   master   of   thought,    on   whose 
authority  Clement  rests  many  of  his  statements, 
but  all  that  there  is  in  it  of  a  speculative  nature, 
all  that  is  outside  the  practical  philosophy  of  the 
Bible,  is  very  often  a  mere  copy  of  Plato  and  other 
heathen  philosophers.     And  this   was   the   more 
fatal,    as    Clement,    being    wholly    imbued    with 
Greek— /.^.,  late  Greek— notions,  held  that  specula- 
tion was  the  only  way  by  which  God  could  be 
approached,  as  being  the  highest  function  of  the 
human  mind.     Consequently  it  was  necessary  to 
create  a  form  of  religion  based  on  speculation, 
and  to  conceive  a  God  who  could  only  be  laid  hold 
of  and   apprehended  by   speculation.     But   this 
God  was    not    the   God   of  the   Bible,   and  this 
speculative   piety  was  not  Christianity  ;     it  was 
mysticism. 

In    his   treatise  Clement  appears  rather  as  a 
gnostic  or  preacher  of  mysticism,   than  as  an 


v/ 


MYSTICISM  OF  THE  GREEK  CHURCH     121 

expounder  of  Christian  truths.  The  word 
gnosis,  ''knowledge,"— carefully  avoided  in  the 
Gospel  of  John,— is  the  basis  of  his  system, 
and  descriptive  of  his  philosophy.  Gnosis,  says 
Clement,  is  more  than  faith.  Faith  is  only  a 
crude  knowledge  of  necessary  truths  for  the  con- 
venience of  people  who  have  no  time  for  thinking  ; 
but  gnosis  is  philosophic  faith. 

It  may  seem  strange  to  us,  not  only  that  he 
places  knowledge  so  far  above  faith,  but  that  with 
an  evidently  slight  understanding  of  the  character- 
istic features  of  faith,  he  mistakes  faith  for  an 
inferior  kind  of  knowledge.  It  reveals  the  Greek 
tendencies  in  him,  and  it  shows  the  imperfect 
mental  condition  of  the  early  Christian  Church 
as  a  whole. 

But  what  are  we  to  think  of  the  first  Christian 
professor  of  theology,  when  he  boldly  declares 
that  if  the  well-instructed  Christian  (to  whom  he 
applies  the  name  of  gnostic)  should  have  to  choose 
between  the  knowledge  of  God  and  eternal  sal- 
vation, and  if  these  two  things  which  ought  to 
be  inseparable  could  be  conceived  as  detached, 
he  would,  without  hesitation,  choose  to  know 
God? 

On  such  dry  ground,  and  in  such  thin  air, 
Christianity  was  fated  to  work  out  its  theology. 
No  wonder  that  the  result  was  poor.  But  al- 
though it  was  bad  Christianity,  there  was  good  in 


122 


MYSTICISM 


it.  No  one  can  deny  to  Clement  a  high-minded- 
ness,  a  purity  and  spirituality,  which  enabled  him 
to  draw  the  best  out  of  Greek  enthusiasm,  and  to 
introduce  into  the  Christian  doctrine  an  element 
worthy  of  it.  For  this  highest  apprehension  or 
knowledge  of  God  elevates  the  soul  above  all 
earthly  lusts  and  desires,  and  fills  it  with  an  in- 
dissoluble love  towards  God.  This  is  the  supreme 
height  of  Platonism,  but  it  is  also  mysticism,  for 
Clement  describes  this  love  as  disinterested,  as 
that  condition  of  blissful  equanimity  of  mind  in 
which  mysticism  is  in  its  element. 

And,  in  conclusion,  Clement's  theories  are  both 
Platonic  and  mystical,  in  that  he  makes  purity 
the  way  to  knowledge.  It  is,  therefore,  not  only 
a  matter  of  meditation,  but  it  is  also  a  question  of 
morality  whether  or  no  this  sanctuary  of  appre- 
hension can  be  entered  ;  and  again,  not  mere 
morality  suffices,  it  must  be  Christian  morality. 
At  this  point  we  at  last  discover  that  there 
is  Christianity  underlying  his  reasonings,  for  he 
makes  love,  as  well  as  purity,  a  necessary  stipula- 
tion. But  only  for  the  acquirement  of  knowledge, 
gnosis.  In  our  day,  we,  as  Christians,  should 
reverse  the  statement,  and  say  that  we  only  give 
place  to  knowledge  in  so  far  as  it  leads  the  way  to 
love. 

Consistent  with  all  this,  God  is  conceived  with 
the   usual   heathen   attributes   of   indiscriminate 


MYSTICISM  OF  THE  GREEK  CHURCH     123 

unity,  unqualified  oneness,  and  such-like  vague 
expressions,  into  which  one  so  easily  falls  by 
thinking  away  all  that  is  substantial  in  our  con- 
ception  of  Him;  a  vagueness,  in  fact,  which 
characterises  the  dreamy  nature  of  the  faith.  As 
a  matter  of  course,  Christ  is  declared  to  be  the 
logos,  and  what  there  is  lacking  in  the  conception 
of  God  is  made  up  in  the  logos,  which  thus  becomes 
the  expressed  consciousness  of  God,  that  part  of 
the  Godhead  by  which  the  world  was  created, 
and  the  only  part  of  the  Godhead  with  which 
the  world  has  to  reckon. 

To  his  contemporaries  the  writings  of  Clement 
appeared  the  height  of  all  Christianity  and 
Christian  knowledge.  How  far  short  he  fell  from 
the  real  height  of  Gospel  Christianity  we  perceive 
when  comparing  his  theories  with  the  Gospel  of 
John.  Christianity,  expressed  in  Greek  form, 
became  Hellenism  expressed  in  Christian  form! 
Origen,  the  great  and  worthy  disciple  of  Clement, 
while  confirming  and  completing  the  system,  is 
so  thoroughly  Greek  when  he  rises  into  the  higher 
speculative  regions,  that  the  Greek  Church  made 
no  difficulty  in  accepting  all  he  taught. 

Yet  neither  Origen  not  Clement  were  mystics 
in  the  true  sense  of  the  word  ;  their  mysticism 
was  only  mysticism  in  part.  But  they  manu- 
factured the  apparatus  used  by  the  mystics  of 
later   generations   for   making   Greek   mysticism 


124 


MYSTICISM 


popular  on  Christian  territory  ;  and  the  Christians 
who  adopted  their  practices  had  a  valid  excuse 
for  doing  so,  and  were,  to  a  certain  extent,  justified 
in  developing  their  theories. 

While  the  Fathers  were  thus  building  up  the 
ecclesiastical  system,  Christian  communities  rose 
up  around  them,  and  monasticism  was  taking  root 
and  developing  rapidly.  The  monks  who  sup- 
planted the  Greek  ascetics  vied  with  the  heathen 
sectaries  in  intellectual  achievements.  As  a 
matter  of  fact,  all  aimed  at  the  same  thing. 
Children  of  Greece  they  all  were,  whether  Gentile 
or  Christian,  and  their  common  object  was  to  gain 
immortality,  or,  perhaps  more  strictly  correct, 
they  all  wanted  to  make  sure  that  their  mortal 
nature  would  be  changed  into  an  immortal  one. 
Far  indeed  the  Greeks  had  wandered  from  their 
original  basis  !  For  the  old  belief  was  that  a 
limit  was  set  to  mortal  man,  a  boundary  that 
could  not  be  passed,  an  insuperable  difference 
fixed  between  man  and  those  whom  they  called 
the  "  immortals.*'  This  belief  had  now  changed 
into  the  ardent  desire  to  bridge  over  the  gulf  and 
to  do  away  with  all  differences. 

The  popular  "  Mysteries "  which  formed  the 
religion  of  half  the  known  world  of  those  days, 
and  promised  salvation  to  the  initiated,  went  hand 
in  hand  with  mysticism.    They  played  the  same 


MYSTICISM  OF  THE  GREEK  CHURCH     125 

tune  in  endless  variations,  but  the  theme  was 
always  the  raising  of  human  nature  into  the 
divine  nature. 

Christian  mysticism,  fitfully  practised  in  deserts, 
in  solitary  places,  and  now  also  in  monasteries,  taught 
that  this  ultimate  goal  could  not  be  reached  except 
by  Christ  indwelling  man.  The  *'  1  live,  yet  not  I, 
but  Christ  liveth  in  me,"  of  the  Epistle  to  the 
Galatians,  was  now  brought  into  practice  in  good 
earnest ;  or,  perhaps  more  correctly,  this  saying 
was  robbed  of  its  deep  spiritual  meaning,  and 
made  into  a  material  fact.  "  Christ  must  spiritu- 
ally be  born  in  each  one  of  us,'*  Methodius  declares, 
about  the  year  300,  and  by  the  expression 
"  spiritually  "  (noeids)  he  means,  by  meditation. 
Whoever  thus  receives  Christ  into  himself  is  born 
of  Christ,  and  the  Christ  dwelling  in  him,  passes 
again,  in  thought,  through  all  the  phases  of  his 
suffering.  This  agrees  with  what  Origen  had 
declared,  namely,  that  the  enlightened  Christian 
had  no  need  of  the  Crucified  One,  because  the  man 
who  is  perfect  bears  within  himself  the  Crucified 
One  and  his  crucifixion. 

And  so  we  meet  the  same  thing  in  all  the  stages 
of  the  Church's  history  on  Greek,  and,  in  our  days 
also,  on  Russian  soil.  "  The  Greek  monks,"  says 
Harnack,  "  live  to-day  as  they  lived  a  thousand 
years  ago,  in  silent  contemplation  and  blissful 
ignorance.     They  labour  only  in  so  far  as  it  is  an 


AafeiiiiiilftMliilMllMrMliniiriiil^ 


126 


MYSTICISM 


absolute  necessity  for  their  sustenance,  but  to 
this  day  the  learned  monk  is  a  silent  reproach 
to  the  uncultured  one,  the  one  who  avoids  nature 
to  the  one  who  loves  it.  Still  the  labouring 
hermit  feels  his  conscience  reproach  him  as  he 
watches  the  brother  who  neither  labours,  nor 
thinks,  nor  speaks,  who  waits  in  lonely  contempla- 
tion and  self-torture  until  the  divine  light  at  last 
illumines  him  "  {Monchtum,  p.  27).  The  shining 
in  of  this  divine  light  to  which  all  aspire  may  be 
described  in  the  words  of  Methodius,  as  consisting 
in  being  made  ''like  God"  (homoiesis  theo),  the 
same  expression  which  the  later  Greek  philosophers 
used  to  describe  the  condition  of  highest  bliss. 

With  this  background  much  of  what  seems 
unintelligible  becomes  clear,  namely,  how  it  was 
possible  that  the  Greek  Church  for  so  many 
centuries  could  devote  its  best  energies  to  disput- 
ing about  the  dual  nature  of  Christ  ;  how  it  was 
possible  that  learned  inquiries  and  clamorous 
synods.  Court  intrigues  and  street  riots,  could  be 
swayed  by  such  abstract  questions  as  whether  the 
Son  had  the  same  nature  as  the  Father,  etc.  We 
can  now  understand  the  triumph  with  which 
Athanasius  asserted  that  Christ  in  the  fullest 
sense  of  the  word  was  "  very  God  and  very  man." 
Such  an  one  the  Christ  must  be  if  He  is  to  help 
man  to  change  his  human  nature  and  raise  it  on 
to  a  higher  level.    God  incarnate  is  the  surety  that 


MYSTICISM  OF  THE  GREEK  CHURCH     127 

God  and  man  can  meet,  and  that  there  can  be 
communion  between  them.  As  soon  as  one  or 
the  other  of  Christ's  natures  is  contracted  or 
limited,  it  means  that  in  that  same  measure  man's 
eternal  happiness  becomes  contracted  or  limited, 
and  his  salvation  incomplete.  So  thoroughly 
Greek  is  Athanasius,  that  by  salvation  he  under- 
stands before  all  things  salvation  from  death,  and 
by  eternal  happiness,  immortality,  and  oneness 
with  God. 

The  ascetic  monks  understood  his  words  to  mean 
that  mysticism,  as  practised  by  them,  would  lead 
to  the  desired  end  ;  that  "  receiving  Christ  "  meant 
verily  and  truly  being  indwelt  by  the  Godhead, 
and  that  it  was  not  a  mere  living  in  close  communion 
with  God.  They  took  the  metaphysical  statement 
literally  and  practically,  and,  as  the  monks  have 
to  a  very  large  extent  influenced  the  setting  up 
of  the  dogmas  of  the  Church,  the  creed  ascribed 
to  Athanasius  has  by  them  been  amplified  and 
encumbered  with  the  damnatory  explanatory  and 
speculative  clauses,  and  made  into  the  clumsy 
complex  which  is  our  inheritance  of  the  Church 
of  old. 

The  great  difference  between  the  theology  of 
East  and  West  is  that  in  the  East  growth  takes 
place  by  accumulation  ;  only  in  the  West  do  we 
find  reconstruction.  For  there  it  is  a  starting 
afresh,  an  inquiry  into  what  underlies  the  traditions, 


128 


MYSTICISM 


and  all  that  one  learns  of  the  past  is  viewed  in 
the  light  of  the  present  in  which  one  lives.  The 
Greek  Church  rightly  calls  itself  orthodox,  for  in 
its  exclusiveness  it  admits  of  no  teaching  that  is 
not  traditional  and  webbed  in  speculation.  The 
only  source  of  renovation  which  it  could  sanction 
is  in  the  worship  of  the  Church.  New  rites  and 
ceremonies  were  constantly  introduced,  half-con- 
cealed or  manifest  relics  of  heathendom  taking 
refuge  under  the  sheltering  roof  of  the  Church. 
And  every  time  a  Greek  or  Slavonic  deity  was 
given  entrance,  one  more  was  added  to  the  multi- 
tude of  saints.  Thus  a  mysticism  grew  up,  in 
substance  as  heathenish  as  the  customs  and  super- 
stitions of  the  people  for  whose  benefit  and  blessing 
it  was  practised. 

The  last  product  of  the  Eastern  Church  before 
it  sank  entirely  into  self-absorbed  contemplation 
was  this  towering  edifice  of  Greek  learning,  in  which 
all  that  later  philosophy  and  early  mysticism, 
ritualism,  and  monkdom  had  concocted,  was 
gathered  into  one  huge  system,  known  as  the 
writings  of  Dionysius  the  Areopagite.  On  this 
curious  compound  of  the  sixth  century,  attributed 
to  the  Areopagite,--but  the  real  author  of  which 
is  unknown, — the  philosophy  of  which  is  an  almost 
exact  copy  of  the  Neo-Platonic  Proclus,  Eastern 
Catholicism  has  built  its  hierarchy.  Through  this 
system — Greek  from  top  to  bottom — paganism. 


MYSTICISM  OF  THE  GREEK  CHURCH     129 

its  mysteries,  its  pantheon,  and  philosophy  were 
smuggled  into  the  Church. 

The  system  was  introduced  also  into  the  Western 
Church,  and  created  enthusiasm  everywhere.  The 
Emperor  Michael  of  Byzantium  sent  the  book  to 
Lewis  the  Pious ;  and  Charles  the  Bald  ordered  it  to 
be -translated  into  Latin  by  the  cleverest  man  of 
his  reign.  Roman  Catholicism  was  by  that  time 
established  in  all  essential  points,  on  principles 
other  than  these  Greek  notions.  Ecclesiastical 
speculation  had  not  yet  made  much  way  there, 
and  the  Scholastics  therefore  welcomed  the  advent 
of  this  magnificent  exposition  as  a  happy  intro- 
duction to  those  supernal  regions. 

The  book  has  a  great  charm.     It  carries 'the 
reader  away  into  regions  and  heights  which  he 
would  otherwise  have  no  chance  of  visiting.     It 
lifts  him  far  above  the  world  and  all   mundane 
things,— throwing  away  as  ballast  all  the  realities 
of  life —into  ever  higher,  lighter,  more  ethereal 
spheres.     It  leads  him  from  the  consideration  of 
plants  and  animals,  to  men,  priests,  monks,  and 
beyond  them  to  saints  and  demons,  angels  and 
archangels,  until  he  reaches  the  triune  Godhead, 
and  finally  draws  near  to  the  Supreme  Deity,  the 
God  who  is  exalted  above  all  Trinity  and  Unity. 
Him  he  cannot  approach  in  the  ordinary  way^in 
which  he  can  apprehend  the  things  of  this  world, 
nor  can  he  find  Him  by  threading  his  way  through 


130 


MYSTICISM 


the  labyrinth  of  thought  which  leads  to  the 
knowledge  of  God.  No,  this  highest  pinnacle  of 
bliss  can  only  be  reached  by  "  circular  "  medita- 
tion, in  which  the  soul's  whole  energy  is  con- 
centrated on  the  Godhead,  and  loses  itself  in 
contemplation. 

This  psychological  analysis  has  its  undoubted 
merit.  The  mystical  organ  and  the  mystical 
condition  are  very  clearly  described.  Thought 
and  sense  pass  away,  and  with  them  all  that  can 
be  felt  or  perceived,  all  that  is,  and  all  that  is  not  ; 
and  so,  deprived  of  all  sensibility  {agnostos),  the 
soul  ascends  to  the  Unity  which  is  exalted  above 
all  essence  and  knowledge.  This,  indeed,  is 
dipping  into  the  mystical  obscurity  of  insensi- 
bility, where  all  recognised  differences  vanish, 
because  the  intellect  is  put  aside  ;  there  one  be- 
comes united  viith  Him  who  is  altogether  incom- 
prehensible, and  through  this  union  with  the 
incomprehensible  the  soul  is  made  like  unto  God 
(theoeides). 

The  God  who  is  to  be  apprehended  with  such  a 
darkened  understanding  is  necessarily  indefinable, 
and,  as  a  specimen  of  the  logic  of  the  mystic  who 
has  reached  this  highest  pinnacle  of  speculation, 
let  us  listen  to  what  Dionysius  has  to  tell  us  about 
the  essence  of  God.  He  is  the  super-eminent 
existence,  a  unity  above  all  unity,  an  incompre- 
hensibleXintelligence,   an  unutterable  word.     By 


MYSTICISM  OF  THE  GREEK  CHURCH     131 

negativing  all  that  is  positive,  and  avoiding  all 
that  is  sensible,  one  attains  at  last  to  the  chemically 
pure  Deity. 

When    "negative    theology"    has   thus   risen 
above  the  broad   multiplicity  of  things  to  the 
highest  cause  of  all,  and  brought  the  soul  silently 
into  mystical  union  with  the  inexpressible,  then 
"affirmative    theology"    comes    down    to    meet 
multiplicity.     Then  the  Nameless  One  becomes  all- 
comprehending.     He  is  the  sun  and  the  stars, 
fire  and  water.  He  is  all  that   is.     Out  of  this 
Divine  essence  all  beings  proceed.     Even  as  it 
unfolds  at  once  into  a  Divine  Trinity,  so  in  ever- 
increasing  multiplicity  it  flows  down  to  the  earth, 
and  the  way  downwards  as  well  as  upwards  is  the 
same,  through  celestial  and  terrestial  hierarchies, 
through  the  hosts  of  angels,  through  episcopate 
and  priesthood,  down  to  the  men  and  animals  of 
this  world.     And  so  Platonic  is  this  system  that 
we  recognise  in  it  at  once  Plato's  favourite  idea, 
that  all  that  is  good  and  beautiful  is  only  good  and 
beautiful  because  it  is  a  part  of  the  Divine  nature. 
What  Plato  says  of  the  Divine  Eros,  of  the 
passionate  longing  to  catch  a  glimpse  of  that 
transcendent   beauty,    became    the   theme   of   a 
hymn  re-echoing  throughout  all  Neo-Platonism, 
and  singing  of  a  love-chain  which  connects  heaven 
and   earth.     In   the   same   way   the   Areopagite 
speaks  of  erotic  links  which,  as  the  agents  of 


ytsssugmaaus^s 


132 


MYSTICISM 


divine  Providence,  come  down  to  mankind,  and 
as  the  soul's  ardent  longing  and  devoted  love 
ascend  back  to  God. 

All  this  forms  one  beautiful  harmonious  whole 
supported  by  mystic  energy,  and  in  order  that 
the  harmony  may  not  be  broken  by  showing  the 
rude  reverse  side  of  life,  evil  is  conveniently  dis- 
posed of  after  the  manner  of  the  Neo-Platonic 
school,  already  hinted  at  by  Philo,  but  more  fully 
unfolded  by  Proclus,  who  declared  that  :  Evil  is 
not  an  independent  agent ;  in  itself  it  is  nothing, 
it  is  a  want,  a  lack,  an  omission,  a  shortcoming  in 
character  and  life,  will  and  power  ;  failings  which 
are  all  remedied  in  proportion  as  one  draws  life 
and  strength  from  the  divine  source. 

In  other  words,  the  heathen  aspect  of  the  system 
of  the  universe  had  conquered  all  along  the  line 
in  Christianity,  and  had  been  sanctioned  and 
sanctified  by  the  Church.  Heaven  was  now  so 
full  with  pantheism,  trinity,  and  pantheon,  that 
there  was  scarcely  room  for  the  Heavenly  Father 
of  the  Gospel.  The  high  dignitaries  of  the  hier- 
archy trampled  on  the  brotherly  love  commended 
in  the  Gospel;  the  great  account  between  good 
and  evil  was  closed,  and  the  only  evil  that  re- 
mained was  human  insufficiency,  the  lack  in 
man  of  the  higher  nature,  and  this  the  Church 
could  easily  make  good  by  means  of  sanctification 
and  sacraments. 


• 


MYSTICISM  OF  THE  GREEK  CHURCH     133 

This  dazzling  book  was  presented  to  the  Caro- 
linean  ruler  with  the  message  that  it  was  the  safe- 
guard against  aU  heresy,  and  throughout  the 
Middle  Ages  it  has  been  the  guiding  star  of  the 
teachers  of  Scholasticism,  and  of  the  heroes  of 
mysticism. 

It  needed  the  clear  perception  of  a  Luther  to  see 

through  the  deceit.     His  keen  inteUect  and  broad 

humour  tore  the  fabric.     "  A  pack  of  lies  and 

fables,"  he  says  in  his  Table  Talk,  and  when  he 

speaks  more  guardedly,  and  in  Latin,  he  exclaims  : 

"As  to  what  Dionysius  says  about  angels  in  his 

Celestial  Hierarchy,-— d.  book  which  has  worried 

many  inquiring  and  superstitious  folk,— I  ask  with 

what  authority  and   on   what   grounds   does  he 

make  his  assertions  ?     May  it  not  altogether  be  a 

chimera,  which,  when  investigated,  vanishes  like 

a  vision  of  the  night  ? 

"And  with  his  mystical  theology,  so  greatly 
eulogised  by  ignorant  theologians,  he  also  gives 
great  offence.  There  is  more  Platonism  than 
Christianity  in  it,  and  my  advice  to  Christians 
is  :  have  nothing  to  do  with  it  !  " 

This  is  the  protest  of  Christianity  against  the 
paganism  of  Scholasticism.  This  is  the  Reformer's 
historical  view  of  the  source  to  which  Christian 
speculation  must  be  traced.  In  Luther,  evan- 
gelical theology  has  a  strong  ally  against  the 
efforts  of  Protestantism  to  destroy  its  own  cause 


I 


ir 


I 


il 


134 


MYSTICISM 


by  theological  metaphysics,  the  component  parts 
of  which,  properly  considered,  are  unconscious 
adaptations  of  heathenism.  Yet  Luther  himself 
was  not  free  from  mysticism,  and  an  apt  and 
eager  student  of  the  art.  But  he  knew — and  this 
is  the  gist  of  the  matter— how  to  distinguish 
heathenism  from  Christianity,  and  he  felt  the 
difference  keenly,  even  in  his  own  moments  of 
mystical  rapture. 


VIII.  THE   MYSTICISM  OF  THE 
ROMAN  CHURCH 

It  was  not  merely  through  his  own  sagacity  that 
Luther   so   easily   disposed   of  the  phHosophical 
tissue  woven  by  the  Areopagite,  but  this  famous 
system  had  already  in  the  course  of  centuries  been 
undermined  in  the  Christian  Churclj  by  the  very 
men  who  had  always  upheld  it  with  traditional 
scruple.     For  these  men  belonged  to  the  Roman 
Church  which  had  grown  up  on  the  soil  of  the 
Roman  Empire.     We  have  to  bear  this  in  mind  to 
understand  why  the  Church,  when  it  was  trans- 
planted from  East  to  West,  became  imbued  with  new 
strength  and  vitality.    It  inherited  from  the  Roman 
Empire  three  things,  namely,  discipline  and  esprit 
de  corps,  the  fundamental  principle  on  which  the 
Roman  State  was  built  ;  strict  obedience,  the  basis 
of  Roman  law ;  and  personal  morality,  which  made 
Stoicism,  the  ideal  of  Roman  philosophy,  respected 
by  most  and  realised  by  the  best. 

Many  other  things  also  the  Church  took  over 
from  the  Roman  State,  such  as  vestments,  ritual, 

saints,  and  superstitions,  but  the  essential  differ- 

135 


I?! 


136 


MYSTICISM 


i 


il 


I 


ence  between  Greek  and  Roman  Christianity  did 
not  lie  in  any  of  these. 

The  Roman  citizens  who  became  Christians 
brought  along  with  them  their  Roman  spirit,  just 
as  the  Greek  Christians  brought  their  Hellenism. 
The  Romans  made  Christianity  into  a  practical 
affair,  just  as  the  Greeks  had  made  it  a  matter  of 
theoretical  contemplation.  Philosophical  dogmas 
were  pushed  into  the  background  to  make  room 
for  a  moral  and  juridical  regulation  of  Christian 
life.  The  learned,  finely  spun-out  arguments  about 
the  Trinity  and  the  double  nature  of  Christ 
were  looked  upon  as  exhausted  ;  other  questions, 
more  closely  connected  with  everyday  life, 
were  now  at  the  order,  such  as  :  What  is  my 
Christian  duty  ?  What  is  my  guilt  ?  What 
punishment  have  I  deserved  ?  Where  can  I 
find  forgiveness  ? 

Now  at  last  Christianity  was  once  more  what 
it  was  in  the  old  apostolic  days  :  a  matter  of 
personal  worth,  of  personal  salvation ;  now  at 
last  sin  and  grace  were  again  looked  at  in  a  Christian 
light.  And  therefore  the  Church  on  Roman  ground 
was  not  primarily  an  institution  for  initiation 
into  mysteries,  and  for  receiving  immortal  life, 
but  rather  the  place  where  the  law  was  read  and 
forgiveness  obtained.  Thus  the  Church  became — 
more  than  the  Greeks  had  ever  made  it — a  real 
community,   in  which  individuals  were  received 


MYSTICISM  OF  THE  ROMAN  CHURCH     137 

and  cared  for,   punished  or  rewarded,— and  led 
into  the  way  of  salvation. 

Repentance  and  correction  was  the  first  task  the 
Roman  Church  set  itself  to  perform  in  its  members, 
and  the  priests,  hardened  by  self-discipline,  became 
very  different  men  from  the  dreaming  monks  of 
the  East.  But  these  different  priests  had  also 
different  duties.  God's  forgiveness  can  only  be 
imparted  through  channels;  grace  can  only  be 
obtained  through  visible  means  of  grace,  and 
these  are  in  the  hands  of  priests.  The  Church  was 
made  the  repository  and  the  distributor  of  the 
sacraments,  and  as  the  Church  grew  in  power  so 
the  sacraments  grew  in  efficacy. 

As  an  outward  institution  of  salvation  the  Roman 
Church  was  put  in  order  by  the  Popes  Leo  and 
Gregory,  but  its  inner  life  was  created  by  St. 
Augustine.  While  the  former  carefully  organised 
and  methodised  the  worship  and  ritual  of  the 
Church,  and  laid  down  the  law  for  all  Church 
matters,  Augustine,  through  strong  inner  experi- 
ences, had  already  discovered  that  the  law  within 
the  heart  is  the  law  of  the  life  to  be  lived  within 
these  mighty  walls.  While  the  former  were 
fretting  and  worrying  about  many  external  things, 
he  only  minded  the  one  thing  that  is  needful. 
God  and  my  soul  is  what  I  have  to  understand. 
That  and  nothing  else.  Looking  into  his  soul,  he 
sees  sin  ;   looking  up  to  God,  he  finds  grace.     And 


138 


MYSTICISM 


IP 


iii 


through  him  these  two  words  again  received  the  old 
significance  they  had  for  Paul,  but  which  had  been 
lost  in  the  argumentative  theories  of  the  Greek 
Church.     For  both  Paul  and  Augustine  were  men 
who  had  lived  and  suffered,  sinned  and  sorrowed, 
before  they  found  pardon  and  peace.     They  spoke 
from  personal  experience,  they  knew  what  was 
wrong  and  what   human  nature  required.     The 
grace  which  St.  Augustine  preached  is,  therefore, 
before  all  things  the  grace  of  forgiveness  (gratia 
remissionis) .     But  for  a  Christian  it  is  not  enough 
that  his  sins  be  forgiven  him.     Faith,  to  him,  is 
something  positive,   a    life    in    God,   and  where 
Augustine  describes  this — and  this  he  does  most 
often  in  his  personal  Confessions — there  is  in  his 
language  a  romanticism  and  an  enthusiasm  which 
spring   from  this  deep,   purely  personal  source. 
He  speaks  of  a  heart  that  is  disquiet  until  it  finds 
rest  in  God ;    of  the  inspiration  of  love  which 
elevates    the    soul    to    God.     In   this   inspir atio 
caritatis  he  finds  the  true  life  and  energising  power 
of  faith,  all  that  man  needs.     Where  this  inspired 
love  governs  the  heart,  man  has  faith,  he  is  justified, 
he  is  redeemed  ;  he  needs  no  external  aid,  and  the 
grace  with  which  God  meets  the  ardent  desire  of 
his  heart  is  no  longer  only  the  grace  of  forgiveness, 
it  is  the  grace  of  inspiration  (gratia  inspir ationis). 

With   this   new   qualification   of   faith   a   new 
mysticism  has  been  created ;  not  the  mysticism  of 


. 


MYSTICISM  OF  THE  ROMAN  CHURCH     139 

contemplation,   but  the  mysticism  of  love.    The 
relationship  towards  God  has   suddenly  become 
practical  and  intimate  ;    it  has  been  transformed 
into  the  " passion  of  intimacy ,*'  as  Soren  Kirkegaard 
calls  it.     The  relation  between  God  and  men  has 
now  become  absolute.     We  must  be  ''  rooted  and 
grounded   in  love  "    if   we  would  call   ourselves 
Christians,   in  caritate  radicatus.      We  must    be 
wholly  God's  if  we  would  be  saved  ;    we  must 
find  ourselves  again  in  Him,  the  only  One  out  of 
whom  flows  all  the  multiplicity  of  the  world.     It 
is  not  :  love  God,  and  then  love  all  things ;  but 
love  God,  and  only  esteem  the  things  of  this  world 
in  so  far  as  God  is  reflected  in  them.     For  He  is 
the  only  reality,  the  only  true  and  really  existing 
One.     Therefore  to  live  and  exist  truly  one  must 
have  part  with  Him,  depend  on  Him,  rejoice  in 
Him.     He  is,  so  to  speak,  a  capital  on  which  one 
must  draw  to  be  kept  alive. 

This  rejoicing  in  God  (fruitio  Dei),  which  con- 
stitutes the  true  and  eternal  life,  is  only  allotted 
to  us  at  rare  moments  of  losing  ourselves  in  God. 
Then  for  a  short  space  the  longing  for  God,  which 
is  implanted  in  human  nature,  the  hunger  for 
that  real  life,  is  satisfied.  Then  we  experience 
in  all  its  fulness  the  grace  of  inspiration,  of  being 
filled  with  the  love  of  God,  which  no  man  can  give 
himself ;  then  we  realise  that  sin  is  the  absence 
of  God's  presence,  God's  love,  and  God's  reahty. 


140 


MYSTICISM 


I 


Of  his  inner  experiences  of  this  relationship 
with  God,  Augustine  tells  us  in  his  Confessions, 
the  most  celebrated  autobiography  and  the  first 
psychological  self-portraiture  in  the  literature  of 
antiquity.  And  these  experiences  were  not  con- 
fined to  the  internal  struggles  of  his  youth,  nor  to 
the  tears  and  the  joy  of  his  conversion,  which  so 
many  Christians  have  taken  for  their  pattern,  and 
which  became  the  fashion  among  the  mystics  of 
following  ages  ;  but  when  he  describes  the  last  day 
he  spent  with  his  mother  he  also  speaks  of  a  mystical 
rapture,  and  a  soaring  up  into  spiritual  heights. 

One  evening,  whenhe  with  his  mother  had  reached 
Ostia  after  a  long  and  tiring  journey,  they  were 
standing  alone  together,  leaning  against  a  window 
which  overlooked  gardens  and  stream.  '*  Thus 
alone,  we  lost  ourselves  in  sweet  communion,  and, 
turning  our  thoughts  away  from  the  past,  we 
looked  into  that  which  lay  before  us,  and  asked 
ourselves,  in  the  presence  of  truth,  what  the  ever- 
lasting life  of  the  saints  would  be  like,  that  which 
no  eye  hath  seen,  no  ear  heard,  and  that  hath 
not  entered  into  any  man's  mind.  Thirsting  we 
opened  our  hearts  to  drink  of  the  water  of  life  from 
the  spring  which  is  in  Thee,  that  we,  our  thirst 
quenched  according  to  our  power,  might  be  able 
to  meditate  upon  so  sublime  a  subject.  And  when 
our  conversation  had  led  us  to  the  conclusion,  that 
even  the  highest  sensual  enjoyment  which,  with 


MYSTICISM  OF  THE  ROMAN  CHURCH     141 

all  its  splendour,  yet  remains  corporeal,  could  give 
us  no  conception  of  the  loveliness  and  glory  of  that 
future  life,  much  less  be  compared  with  it,  we  were 
suddenly  seized  with  a  yet  stronger  desire,  and  rose 
in  spirit  step  by  step  into  the  heavenlies,  from 
where  sun  and  moon  and  stars  shine  down  upon  the 
earth  ;  and  ever  higher  we  ascended  in  our  inner 
consciousness,  meditating  upon  Thy  works,  dis- 
cussing and  admiring  them,  and  so  we  reached  the 
spirit  world,  and  this  also  we  surpassed,  and  rose 
up  to  the  region  of  inexhaustible  fulness,  where 
Thou  leadest  Israel  into  the  paths  of  truth,  and 
where  the  wisdom  is  found  from  whence  all  things 
proceed,  the  things  which  now  are,  which  were,  and 
shall  be. 

*'  And  thus  we  spoke  :  When  in  one's  body  the 
storm  of  the  flesh  is  silenced,  w^hen  the  voices  of 
land  and  sea  and  air  are  hushed,  and  the  canopy 
of  heaven  is  silent  ;  when  the  soul  is  mute  within 
itself,  and  forgetting  self  rises  above  itself  ;  when 
the  dreams  and  fancies  of  the  imagination  are 
silent ;  when  every  tongue  and  every  sense  and 
all  that  is  perishable  in  one  is  silent  .  .  .  and 
when  then  the  Creator  speaks,  not  through  any 
of  these,  but  speaks  Himself  directly,  and  we  thus 
hear  His  voice,  not  from  any  man's  lips,  and  not 
from  the  lips  of  angels;  not  in  thunder  and  darkness, 
and  not  in  unintelligible  parables,  but  hear  Him, 
whom  we  adore  in  these  things,  Himself  alone  apart 


142 


MYSTICISM 


|i| 


|i)l 


from  them  all,  even  as  we  have  risen  above  them, 
and  in  rapturous  flights  of  thought  have  reached 
the  eternal  wisdom  which  is  highly  exalted  above 
all ;  if  then  this  condition  could  be  a  lasting  one, 
and  all  other  thoughts  and  imaginings  of  a  different 
nature  could  be  banished  for  ever,  and  the  beholder 
were  thus  carried  away,  consumed,  swallowed  up 
in  joy,  tasting  of  eternal  bliss,  and  the  soul's 
yearning  satisfied,  would  not  this  be  the  moment 
to  which  those  words  apply  :  '  Enter  thou  into  the 
joy  of  thy  Lord  '  ?  " 

All  this  ought  to  be  Christian  logic  ;  it  is  one  of 
the'greatest  teachers  of  the  Church  who  thus  speaks 
from  the  zenith  of  his  life's  experience.  And  yet, 
notwithstanding  he  introduces  so  many  Bible  words 
and  expressions,  there  is  in  all  this  not  a  single 
thought  or  idea  which  could  have  taken  shape 
without  the  cement  of  Platonism.  Here  are  two 
pious  souls  ascending  step  by  step  through  all  the 
regions  of  creation  until  they  reach  the  place  where 
the  souls  are  at  home  ;  higher  still,  to  where  they 
touch  the  Eternal  Truth,  the  essence  of  all  being. 
There,  with  awakened  senses,  they  experience  a 
felicity  far  excelling  all  sensual  joy,  and  they  have 
a  foretaste  of  that  blessed  vision  which  will  be 
vouchsafed  to  those  in  whom  all  things  are  silenced 
and  God  alone  speaks. 

If  this  last  link  in  the  chain  were  missing,  one 
might  virtually  take  this  sketch  as  descriptive  of 


MYSTICISM  OF  THE  ROMAN  CHURCH     143 

the  ecstatic  condition  of  the  Neo-Platonist.    How 
could  it  be  otherwise  ?     Augustine's  speculative 
doctrine   of  the  deity  was  in   all  essentials  the 
same  as  that  of  the  Neo-Platonic  school.     He  even 
admits  that   ''  they  knew  quite  well  where  they 
had  to  get  to,  only  they  did  not  know  the  way." 
For  the  way  is  Christ.     Therefore,  when  Augustine 
wants   to   describe  what  he  experienced   in   this 
mystical  vision,  he  must,  so  to  speak,  talk  Greek. 
And  this  gives  no  offence;  for  in  this  Christian 
hero,  Platonic  philosophy  and  Christian  faith  and 
feeling  have  been  harmoniously  blended  together. 
Augustine,  although  he  borrowed  much,  knew  what 
profit  to  make  of  the  foreign  material.     A  mistake 
which  Protestantism  often  commits  is  to  beheve 
that  Christianity  can  only  be  kept  pure  by  not 
accepting  any  of  the  popular  notions  of  the  time. 
This  is  not  so.     Christianity  rather  preserves  its 
purity  by  filling  the  prevailing  ideas  with  its  own 
vitality.     Augustine  realised  this,  but  the  Fathers 
of  the  Church  who  thought  they  followed  in  his 
footsteps  understood  it  differently,  and  the  mysti- 
cism with  which  Christian  theology  crowned  its 
system  became,  during  the  succeeding  six  or  seven 
hundred  years,   more  an  excrescence  of  the  old 
theories  which  Augustine  had  amalgamated  into 
his  system,  than  a  deeper  entering  into  the  new 
views  which  he  had  exhibited.     They  fell  headlong 
back    into   Greek  systems,   and   even  a  mighty 


144 


MYSTICISM 


intellect  like  John  Scotus  Erigena  was  in  reality 
only  able  to  reproduce  Dionysius  the  Areopagite. 

The  principal  interests  and  strength  of  the 
Roman  Church,  however,  did  not  lie  in  this  specu- 
lative region.  To  apprehend  God  mystically  was 
the  much-valued  privilege  of  the  priesthood,  but 
not  a  power  in  their  hands.  There  was  another 
kind  of  mysticism  that  gave  them  this  authorita- 
tive power.  To  this  they  devoted  all  their  energy, 
and  developed  it  to  a  high  state  of  perfection. 
This  was  sacramental  mysticism. 

The  Catholic  priests,  who  have  always  been 
fond  of  comparing  themselves  to  shepherds,  have 
had  very  much  the  same  experience  as  their 
colleagues,  the  shepherds  in  the  field.  They  think 
they  are  the  leaders  of  the  flock,  but  the  sheep 
know  better,  and  the  shepherd,  with  his  crook  and 
call,  has  in  the  end  to  accommodate  himself  to  the 
pasture  which  the  flock  has  selected  by  paths 
of  their  own  choosing.  Although  Augustine,  in 
his  spiritual  and  personal  Christianity,  stood 
infinitely  higher  than  Gregory  the  Great,  with 
his  masses  and  saints,  his  purgatory,  penances, 
and  sacraments,  yet  Gregory  was  *'  the  shepherd," 
the  man  who,  in  effect,  settled  the  internal  arrange- 
ments of  the  Church.  For  he  had  the  sheep  on 
his  side  ;  he  knew  the  kind  of  pasture  they  liked. 
Cherished  customs  of  Romish  heathendom  were 
by  him  admitted  into  the  Church,  and  in  spite  of 


MYSTICISM  OF  THE  ROMAN  CHURCH     145 

all  the  wisdom,  the  discretion,  the  philosophy 
exhibited  by  the  teachers  who,  after  him,  endea- 
voured to  make  theology  into  a  field  of  specu- 
lative thought,  the  insensitive  will  of  the  laity 
prevailed.  Their  superstitions  and  sensuality, 
their  love  for  the  corporeal  and  the  miraculous, 
showed  the  masters  of  Scholasticism  in  which 
direction  their  work  lay,  and  provided  them 
with  the  material  for  building  up  their  system. 
The  formulae  were  still  those  of  Augustine,  but 
the  methods  became  more  and  more  those  of 
Gregory.  In  this  light  we  understand  why  the 
sacraments  were  made  so  much  of  by  the  teachers 
of  the  Scholastic  school,  and  why  they  spent  all 
their  reasoning  powers  in  trying  to  explain  their 
meaning  and  importance,  although  Augustine  had 
suggested  very  different  matter  for  thought. 

To  the  Churchmen  of  the  Middle  Ages,  the 
sacraments  were  more  than  holy  acts  and  ele- 
ments;  in  their  eyes  the  sacraments  formed  a 
separate  province  in  the  constitution  of  the  uni- 
verse, over  which  the  Church  was  set  to  rule. 
This  view  was  based  on  mysticism,  the  mysticism 
which  the  Church  long  ago  had  borrowed  from 
Plato,  but  which,  in  course  of  time,  had  been 
re-baptized  and  re-inaugurated  so  many  times, 
that  it  required  sharp  eyes  to  detect  its  heathen 
derivation.  Vniversalia  sunt  realia,  "  Generality 
is  reality,"  they  said.     Hegel  and  his  followers 


10 


146 


MYSTICISM 


m\ 


said  :  *'  The  Ideal  is  the  real,"  which  comes  very 
much  to  the  same  thing.  Words  and  conceptions 
which  to  us  symbolise  existing  things  ;  creations 
of  the  imagination  to  express  the  things  which 
our  bodily  senses  perceive, — are  to  them  the  true 
realities  themselves,  from  which  the  things  which 
we  call  real  have  proceeded  ;  and  consequently 
the  realities  of  this  world  are  merely  the  reflected 
image  in  which  the  supremest  reality  chooses  to 
manifest  itself.  These  ideas  and  reflections  are 
for  the  Church,  as  for  Plato,  the  one  sound  and  solid 
principle  from  which  all  material  things  derive 
their  right  of  being,  and  the  world  its  claim  to 
the  citizenship  of  heaven.  The  verities  of  faith 
are,  therefore,  not  a  something  which  Christian 
men  happen  to  believe  in  ;  no,  they  reasoned 
thus  :  All  men  believe  something ;  therefore 
faith  is  common  property,  therefore  a  reality, 
therefore  an  incontestable  truth.  The  Church, 
our  home  on  earth,  is  but  a  reflection  of  the  heavenly 
Jerusalem,  where  glory  dwells,  and  where  is  the 
fountain  of  grace.  And  that  the  Church  is  called 
catholic,  i.e.  "  universal  " — "  common,"  is,  accord- 
ing to  this  logic,  a  further  guarantee  of  its  being 
the  true  Church  ;  it  is  real,  because  it  is  universal. 
And  the  Church  is  indispensable,  because  it 
forms  the  link  between  the  two  kingdoms,  the 
Kingdom  of  Grace  above,  and  the  Kingdom  of 
Nature  below.     Of  Nature  they  knew  about   as 


MYSTICISM  OF  THE  ROMAN  CHURCH     147 

much  as  Aristotle  knew  of  it.  The  physical 
theories  of  the  Greek  sage  were  fitted  into  the 
Platonic  Church  system,  because  he  represented 
nature  as  forming  one  harmonious  whole,  held 
together  by  a  conscious  power,  which  betrays  a 
highest  cause  and  a  highest  purpose.  For  this 
reason,  the  Aristotelian  theory  of  nature  received 
a  place  in  the  great  edifice  which  reached  up  into 
the  heavens,  and  became  a  ladder,  leading  up 
step  by  step  into  the  kingdom  of  Grace  :  from 
the  visible  into  the  invisible  ;  from  the  perishable 
into  the  imperishable. 

What  the  theory  of  ideas  had  been  for  Plato, 
the  kingdom  of  Grace  became  for  Scholasticism. 
Grace,  i.e.  divine  vitality,  eternal  life,  the  power 
of  immortality  and  final  salvation,  that  is  the 
power  which  supports  the  world.  It  is  the  promise 
of  the  real  life,  and  where  nature  is  receptive  of 
grace,  its  life  is  no  longer  a  merely  perishable 
existence. 

With  his  flesh  and  blood,  man  belongs  to  the 
kingdom  of  nature.  If  he  would  conquer  death, 
and  in  this  life  overcome  the  perishable  nature 
in  which  he  has  been  born,  he  must  have  recourse 
to  grace,  i.e.  the  Church,  for  she  is  the  dispenser 
of  the  means  of  grace.  She  baptizes  with  water 
and  anoints  with  oil;  she  provides  the  salt 
and  the  light;  she  consecrates  the  bread  and 
pours  out  the  wine  ;  she  blesses  men,  and  imposes 


148 


MYSTICISM 


penalties  for  shortcomings ;  she  casts  out  the 
devil  out  of  our  human  flesh,  and  raises  marriage 
above  the  bonds  of  lower  nature  ;  she  also  anoints 
the  feet  of  the  believer  before  he  starts  on  his  last 
journey,  in  order  that  he  may  find  his  true  home. 
In  these  sacraments  and  sacramental  acts,  with 
their  palpable  materialism  and  their  priestly 
blessing,  the  kingdom  of  nature  and  the  kingdom 
of  grace  meet.  They  spiritualise  nature  and 
materialise  the  divine  efficacy.  This  is  the  unio 
mystica  which  the  people  need,  for  it  is  a  mystery 
which  leads  to  something,  to  eternal  salvation, 
and  it  is  accessible  to  all.  And  the  more  the 
Church  became  consolidated  as  a  Church,  the 
more  she  learned  to  value  the  power  which  the 
people's  craving  for  salvation  had  placed  into  her 
hands.  By  virtue  of  the  sacraments,  she  is  arbiter 
of  life  and  death,  she  has  the  monopoly  of  the 
fountain  of  life :  *'  Outside  the  Church,  no  hope 
of  salvation." 

Special  prominence  is  given  to  the  sacrament 
of  the  Lord's  Supper.  In  the  great  doctrinal  dis- 
putes of  the  Carolinian  days,  its  significance  was 
discussed  in  one  way  and  another,  and  the  inter- 
pretation which  gave  the  widest  range  to  mysticism 
and  made  holy  things  into  palpable  magic,  carried 
the  day.  This  magical  efficacy  was  smuggled 
in  under  the  spiritual  form  of  the  Augustinian 
doctrine,  as,  for  instance,  in  the  celebrated  treatise 


MYSTICISM  OF  THE  ROMAN  CHURCH     149 

on  the   Last    Supper,  by    Paschasius   Radbertus 
(831).    He  says  quite  complaisantly  :  '*  The  sacra- 
ment is   the  spiritual  food  of  faith  ;    to  eat  the 
flesh  of  Christ,  is  to  abide  in  Him.     Faith  has  to 
do  with  the  invisible,  therefore  the   eye  of  faith 
looks  beyond  the  visible,  and  only  beholds  the 
divine  which  is  behind."     These  carefully  chosen 
words   contain    a    good   deal   of  ancient   Greek 
heathenism,  and  here  we  have  to  do,  not  only 
with  Dionysius  the  Areopagite,  but  with  Dionysius 
the  Wine-god.     Not  only  the  soul,  but  the  body 
also  feeds  on  the  sacrament ;   our  flesh,  as  well  as 
our  spirit,   is  thereby  made  fit  for  immortality 
and    incorruption.     The    Greeks    cherished    this 
idea,  because  immortality  was  the  aim  and  object 
of  their  religion,  and  the  Lord's  Supper  became 
for  them  one  continuous  incarnation,  a  perpetual 
repetition  of  Christ's  becoming   man,   and  this 
was  all  they  wished  for,  for  to  them  it  was  a 
pledge  that   even    as  the  divine  could  put   on 
human  flesh,  so  our  flesh  can  put  on  immortaUty. 
By  partaking  of  the  body  of  Christ,  He  becomes 
incarnate  in  me,  and  by  mystical  union  I  become 
a  partaker  of  the  divine  nature,  and  possess  in 
my  own  flesh  and  blood  the  power  of  immortal 
life.     The    Greek  notions  about   "  the  body  of 
Christ  "    were   doubtless  of   a   somewhat   vague 
and  fanciful  character ;  but  the  Fathers  of  the 
Western  Church  were  men  who  desired  to  be 


150 


MYSTICISM 


i 


clear  and  explicit,  and  to  keep  to  realities.  There- 
fore a  Paschasius  Radbertus — whose  doctrine  on 
the  Lord's  Supper  was  accepted  as  orthodox — 
emphatically  declares  that  the  body  of  Christ, 
as  partaken  of  in  the  Lord's  Supper,  is  in  very 
deed  that  which  was  born  of  the  Virgin  Mary, 
and  that  as  the  host  is  being  blessed  a  change 
takes  place,  by  which  the  bread  is  verily  made 
into  the  body  of  Christ,  but,  he  says :  the  portion 
of  the  bread  which  is  perceptible  to  our  bodily 
senses,  remains  unchanged. 
-r  Such  things  could  be  said  and  believed  in  the 
I  Middle  Ages,  even  by  the  most  faithful  sons  of 
the  Church,  because  it  represented  something 
definite  to  their  minds.  The  idea  was  based  on 
Platonic  logic,  which  says  :  the  essence  and  reality 
of  things  is  from  above  ;  the  invisible  is  the  real, 
that  which  thou  seest  is  not  real.  Consequently 
in  that  what  the  senses  perceive  a  divine  reality 
may  be  present,  capable  of  assuming  for  a  fleeting 
moment  the  properties  of  the  visible  thing  ;  the 
divine  body  and  the  divine  blood  can  take  the 
form  of  bread  and  wine. 

It  was  natural  and  necessary  that  this  kind  of 
logic  should  be  overthrown  before  sacramental 
mysticism  could  be  done  away  with, — and  the 
transformation  took  place  in  the  very  heart  of 
Scholastic  philosophy.  The  Nominalists  (as  the 
followers  of  the  new  school  were  called),  whose 


MYSTICISM  OF  THE  ROMAN  CHURCH     151 

notions  about  names,  ideas,  and  conceptions  were 
about  the  same  as  ours  are,  have  helped  quite 
as  much  as  a  Savonarola  and  a  Huss  to  prepare 
the  way  for  the  Reformation.  Luther  was  a 
declared  disciple  of  the  Nominalist  Occam,  and 
as  he,  for  himself,  refused  to  have  anything  to  do 
with  Platonic  philosophy,  he  also  succeeded  in 
taking  away  from  the  sacraments  their  material 
mysticism.  In  his  earliest  writings  the  idea  of 
Christ's  corporeal  presence  in  the  sacrament  of  the 
Lord's  Supper  was  forced  to  the  background  The 
sacramental  words  make  the  sacrament.  In  them 
the  whole  Gospel  is  contained :  "  forgiveness, 
life,  salvation,"  and  if  from  the  extreme  left  of 
the  Reformation  movement  those  much  more 
pronounced  radical  views  had  not  been  advanced, 
in  which  Luther  scented  the  rebellious  spirit  of 
the  Anabaptists,  he  would  probably  have  abided 
by  his  original  view.  But  Karlstadt's  exaggerated 
exposition  of  the  sacrament  of  the  Lord's  Supper 
irritated  Luther,  and  from  that  time  he  mis- 
trusted every  symbolical  interpretation,  even 
Zwingli's  much  more  guarded  one.  More  and 
more  boldly  he  insists  on  the  actual  words  of  the 
Bible,  and  Christ's  corporeal  presence  in  the 
sacrament,  and  many  times  it  would  seem  as  if 
his  views  are  but  a  reflection  of  the  Roman  inter- 
pretation. 

The  mysticism  of  visible  signs  and  miracles  ran 


■I 

1 

I 
I 


152 


MYSTICISM 


liH 


into  paganism,  and  remained  pagan,  as  far  as 
the  Roman  Church  was  concerned.     Yet,  in  this 
same    Church    there    grew    up,    simultaneously, 
something  which  was  true  Christian  mysticism, 
an  inner  life,  lived  in  Christ,  and  in  which  Christ 
lived.     This  also  had  its  root  in  Augustine.     For 
his  mysticism  was  not  merely  a  state  of  ecstatic 
transport  which  carried  him  beyond  the  stars  ; 
his  ardent  desire  was  that  the  living  Christ  should 
dwell  in  him.     Augustine    introduced    the    great 
and  new  thought  which  the  Fathers  of  the  Eastern 
Church  knew  only  vaguely  or  not  at  all,  namely, 
that  living  in  Christ  is  a  personal  matter.     The 
Greek  monks,  like  the  Greek  theologians,  saw  in 
Christ   from   first   to  last   the   Trinitarian   figure 
about   whose  place   in   the   Godhead    there    was 
much   dispute,   but   to  whom    nevertheless  they 
all  assigned  a  place,  some  of  them  an  exclusive 
one  in  the   Godhead.     Before    their    speculative 
zeal    the    historical    facts    fell    into    the    back- 
ground.    The    feelings    with    which     a    modern 
Christian     regards      his     Saviour,     feelings      of 
personal    devotion    and    gratitude,    and    of    the 
responsibility  laid  upon  him,  these  were  formerly 
not   much   thought   of;    all   that   mattered   was 
whether  he  was  God  enough  to  impart  godhness, 
and  man  enough  for  men  through  him  to  be  made 
partakers  thereof. 

For  Augustine  the  meeting  of  the  soul  with  God 


MYSTICISM  OF  THE  ROMAN  CHURCH     153 

was   a   much   simpler   matter.     To   him   it   was 
communion  in  the  enthusiasm  of  love,  and  Greek 
Christian    mysticism    was    therefore    necessarily 
discarded  by  him.     But  this  by  no  means  implies 
that    Christ    was   discarded.     It    was   only   that 
Augustine  looked  at  him  with  different  eyes,  and 
felt  for  him  something  else  than  the  selfish  hunger 
for  immortal  life.     He  saw  the  humanness  in  the 
life  of  Jesus,  and  realised  that  this  also  was  precious 
to  mankind,  in  the  first  place  because  God  Himself 
had  humbled  Himself  therein.     *'  I  believe  that 
God  became  man  for  us,  to  be  to  us  an  example 
of  humility  and  to  show  us  what  God's  love  is. 
And  this  helps  us  to  realise  and  to  hold  fast  in  our 
hearts  that  the  self-abasement  in  which  it  pleased 
God  to  be  born  of  a  woman,  and  allowed  Himself  to 
be  scorned  and  rejected  and  put  to  death  by  men, 
is  the  best  remedy  for  our  puffed-up  pride.     He 
was  crucified—now  it  depends  on  thee  to  take  His 
poverty  upon  thyself  ;   far  from  thee  He  lived,  but 
in  poverty  He  comes  nigh  unto  thee.*' 

When  Augustine  speaks  in  terms  like  these,  not 
as  arguing  for  a  theological  problem  but  out  of  the 
fulness  of  his  heart,  he  produces  an  image  of  Christ 
similar  to  Paul's  conception  of  Him,  an  image 
which  in  the  course  of  the  intervening  centuries 
of  ApostoHc  Christianity  had  been  lost.  When 
Paul  sums  up  his  exhortation  in  the  words  :  "  Let 
the  same  mind  be  in  you  which  was  also  in  Christ 


\ 
i 


154 


MYSTICISM 


i  H 


m 


Jesus,"  he  refers  to  Christ's  great  humility,  to 
His  taking  the  form  of  a  servant,  to  His  being 
obedient  even  unto  death,  in  order  to  bring  home 
to  us  what  was  the  mind  of  Christ  ;  and  Augustine 
does  practically  the  same.  His  definition  of 
Christianity  is  that  it  is  a  state  of  mind  to  which 
only  a  Christian  can  attain.  And  what  state  of 
mind  is  it  which  distinguishes  the  Christian  from 
the  heathen  man  ?  That  he  believes  in  that 
which  Paul  lived  and  preached  :  that  strength  is 
made  perfect  in  weakness  ;  that  what  the  world 
despises  is  acceptable  with  God  ;  that  humiliation 
and  scorn  and  suffering  are  the  conditions  for  the 
reward,  and  that  nothing  can  be  gained  until  one 
has  learned  to  despise  worldly  greatness,  power, 
and  honour.  This  is  Christianity,  for  so  Christ  was, 
and  this  the  Church  has  never  quite  forgotten, 
even  in  its  most  miserable  and  confused  state. 

In  other  words,  this  is  historical  Christianity, 
based  on  the  historical  figure  of  Christ  and  the 
divine  power  dwelling  in  him  showing  forth  in  his 
life  and  suffering.  But  this  simple  exposition  of 
Christ  by  no  means  exhausts  all  that  Augustine 
had  to  say  about  him,  for  he  corroborates,  without 
disputing  them,  many  of  the  existing  notions  of 
the  Church.  And  it  does  not  express  all  that  the 
Church  thought  of  Christ  in  the  time  immediately 
following  Augustine.  The  Church  did  not  form 
its  conception  of  Christ  in  the  light  of  the  new 


MYSTICISM  OF  THE  ROMAN  CHURCH     155 

truths  which  Augustine  had  revealed,  yet,  he  had 
spoken  the  word,  and  it  but  waited  the  right 
moment  to  come  to  fruition. 

This  moment  came  with  the  Crusades,  and  with 
the  apostle  of  the  time  of  the  Crusades,  Bernard  of 
Clairvaux.  This  adventurous  going  out  into  the 
world,  this  cultural  struggle  with  the  Saracens, 
this  strange  confusion  of  Christian  ideals  and 
Byzantine  politics,  were  all  necessary  to  make  the 
people  understand  and  realise  who  Christ  really 
was.  It  was  necessary  for  them  personally  to 
visit  the  country  where  Christ  himself  had  walked, 
they  had  to  fight  and  bleed  before  Jerusalem, 
kneel  at  the  tomb  of  Jesus,  tread  in  his  footsteps 
on  the  road  to  Calvary,  before  they  earnestly  and 
truly  believed  and  understood  what  it  meant  : 
Christ  has  lived  and  Christ  has  died. 

Only  through  these  strong,  emotional  experi- 
ences Christ  became  for  the  Church  an  historical 
fact.  The  personality  of  Christ  in  his  human 
life  and  suffering,  faintly  sketched  by  Augustine 
and  only  apprehended  by  the  few,  now  stood  out 
in  vivid  colours  and  became  the  property  of  all. 
And  what  they  did  not  see  with  their  own  eyes 
they  learned  from  Bernard  of  Clairvaux.  He 
depicted  the  sufferings  of  Christ  in  language 
intelligible  to  all ;  his  life  on  earth,  his  poverty 
and  his  passion  they  thus  realised,  and,  in  realising 
these,    they   realised   his   divinity.     St.    Bernard 


-  :  ■  -    -~'-/i^ 


Mfei 


156 


MYSTICISM 


m 


thus  created  a  Christ -mysticism  of  which  Augustine 
can  have  had  but  the  faintest  notion,  and  which 
now  became  the  groundwork  of  all  Western  piety 
throughout  the  Roman  Church  :    "To  have  part 
in  Christ  thou  must  have  part  in  His  suffering.    For 
suffering  is  the  essence  of  His  being  ;  by  putting 
on  His  sufferings  thou  hast  won  Christ,  thou  hast 
put  on  Christ."     Such  was  the  practical,  personal 
interpretation  of  the  words  :    *'  Christ  liveth  in 
me  "  ;    the  words  which   the   mysticism  of  the 
Greek  Church  had  made  into  a  matter  of  specula- 
tion.    In  both  Churches  mysticism  ensued ;    in 
both  it  led  to  renunciation,  asceticism,   ecstasy. 
Yet  the  two  were  as  far  apart  as  the  East  is  from 
the  West,  and  the  difference  lay  particularly  in 
their  interpretation  of  these  very  words  which 
were  the  starting-point  of  both.     The  Athos  monk 
emptied  himself  of  self  that  he  might  receive  in 
himself  the  divine  power  of  the  incarnate   Son 
of  God,  almost  as  if  he  were  being  infused  with 
some  natural  power.     The  mystic  of  the  Western 
Church,  on  the  other  hand,  wanted  union  with 
Christ,  because  he  desired  to  be  one  with  Him  in 
His  human  life.     He  desired  to  follow  after  Him 
in  His  humiliation,  not  by  emptying  himself  of  his 
personality,  but  rather  by  raising  and  confirming 
his  personality  on  a  new  moral  basis.     This  is 
active  and  ethical,  as  against  passive  and  physical 
Christian  mysticism.     Active  although  in  passive 


MYSTICISM  OF  THE  ROMAN  CHURCH     157 

form,  in  the  highest  activity  of  suffering.  For 
they  aspired  at  living  over  again  the  whole  passion 
of  Christ,  and  they  were  not  satisfied  until  they 
had  crucified  the  flesh,  that  they  might  also  be 
exalted  with  Him.  This  exaltation  could  be  won 
here  on  earth.  To  him  who  follows  Christ  in  His 
poverty,  who  wearies  himself  in  exercises  and 
deeds  of  penitence,  is  vouchsafed  even  here  on 
earth  a  moment's  blissful  tarrying  in  communion 
with  the  Saviour  ;  a  joy  reserved  for  those  who 
have  watched  with  Him  to  the  end.  The  penitent 
may  kiss  the  feet  of  Jesus,  the  man  of  action  may 
kiss  His  hands,  but  to  His  faithful  ones  He  grants 
the  third  kiss,  the  kiss  on  the  mouth  of  the  bride- 
groom, the  sweet,  the  stolen  kiss,  the  copula 
spiritualis  which  is  the  heavenly  reflection  of  the 
earthly  marriage  vow.  "  There  is  a  place,"  says 
St.  Bernard,  **  where  God  may  be  seen  as  He  who 
abideth  for  ever  :  a  place  where  He  is  neither 
teacher  nor  judge,  but  bridegroom  ;  a  place  which 
is  to  me  (whatever  it  be  to  others)  as  the  bridal 
chamber  which  I  am  called  to  enter.  But,  alas ! 
rare  are  those  moments  and  of  short  duration." 

This  is  real  mysticism,  because  it  is  erotic.  The 
same  sentimental  longing  which  we  noticed  in 
Persian  m3^sticism  now  appears  in  Christianity 
also,  and  we  find  the  chaste  monk  revelling  in  the 
Song  of  Solomon,  which  has  been  liberally  in- 
cluded   in    the  Holy   Scriptures.     St.   Bernard's 


I 


;  s 


lit 

I 

ill 


J 


158 


MYSTICISM 


masterful  interpretation  of  the  Canticles,  the 
most  original  and  best  known  of  his  writings,  has 
become  the  pattern  of  a  peculiar  kind  of  mysticism 
which  indulges  in  kisses  and  embraces  far  exceed- 
ing the  limitations  of  Christian  mysticism  both 
in  the  Roman  and  the  Protestant  Churches. 
But  just  as  the  first  falling  in  love  of  young  people 
is  a  sign  that  they  feel  themselves  no  longer 
children  but  self-conscious  persons,  so  the  mysti- 
cism of  St.  Bernard  is,  as  it  were,  the  religious 
awakening  of  the  individual,  producing  a  most 
refreshing  effect  after  all  the  vagueness  and  im- 
personality of  former  systems,  and  all  the  general- 
ising properties  of  ancient  Catholic  mysticism. 

This  was  the  same  subjective  Christianity  of 
which  Augustine  had  struck  the  chord,  but  now 
it  was  transplanted  into  the  life  of  the  individual, 
in  the  fervour  of  a  first  passion  in  the  youthful, 
impulsive  desire  for  freedom. 

How  unaffected  in  the  midst  of  the  formal 
Latin  of  the  Church  sounds  the  avowal :  For 
me  at  least— what  others  think  I  know  not  ("  Mihi 
quidem,  nam  dc  aliis  nescio  ")  !  Yet  St.  Bernard 
possessed  more  than  subject iveness  and  feeling, 
just  as  he  did  not  confine  himself  to  the  historical 
Christ.  But  so  slowly  grows  the  soul  of  the 
human  race,  so  tenacious  are  the  threads  of  history 
which  bind  it,  that  the  new  theory  promulgated 
by  the  greatest  genius  of  the  time  of  the  Crusades 


MYSTICISM  OF  THE  ROMAN  CHURCH     159 

got  no  further  than  the  start.     The  fellow-suffer- 
ing with  Christ  which  he  preached  was  in  reality 
only  a  suffering  in  thought.     With  all  his  practical 
Christianity    St.    Bernard,   when    he    reveals  his 
innermost  mind,  is  always  a  contemplative  man, 
and   his   mysticism,    well   considered,    flows   out 
in  intellectualism.     His  ardent  love  is,  after  all, 
only  a  means  to  reach  the  highest    knowledge, 
needing  the  help  of  dialectics  even  where  it  far 
exceeds  the  limits  of  reason.    Therefore  the  histori- 
cal Christ   is  not   enough  for  him.     Just  as  the 
spiritual  meaning  of  the  Scriptures  is  infinitely 
beyond  the  sense  of  the   actual  words,  so  there 
is   a   spiritual   Christ    (the   ''  Word  "  which  was 
in  the  beginnning)  of  whom  the  historical  Jesus 
is  but  the  reflected  image,  and  who  is  the  aim 
and  object  of  mystical  speculation  and  contempla- 
tion.    In  this  manner  Greek  philosophy  triumphs 
over  the  exalted  views  of  St.  Bernard  as  it  did 
over   those   of   St.    Augustine,    Greek   ideas   and 
mannerisms  appear  again  under  the  new   form 
of  religion,  and  St.  Bernard's  mysticism,  notwith- 
standing its  great  girth,  was  easily  made  to  fit 
into  the  system  of  Scholasticism,  and  presently 
became  the  peculiar  type  of  speculation  indulged 
in  by   the    master-minds    of    the   time,   and   of 
which  we  find  specimens  in  the  writings  of  Peter 
Lombard  and  Thomas  Aquinas. 
This  amalgamation  of  mysticism  and  Scliolasti- 


m 


1 60 


MYSTICISM 


cism  was  the  easier  accomplished  as  the  pious  and 
learned  contemporary  of  St.  Bernard,  Hugo  a  St. 
Victor,  experienced  the  same  mystical  emotions 
as  the  great  Abbot  of  Clairvaux,  and  applied 
them  to  his  Scholastic  system.  Hugo's  mysticism 
is  the  scientific  counterpart  of  that  of  St.  Bernard. 
Possibly  the  young  scholar,  who  wrote  his  first 
treatise  during  his  novitiate  in  the  German  con- 
vent at  Hamersleben  (11 15),  put  into  words 
thoughts  which  he  had  gathered  from  St.  Bernard's 
practical  piety  and  applied  to  his  own  way  of 
thinking.  At  any  rate  these  two,  starting  from 
the  same  point,  have  produced  a  totally  different 
result.  St.  Bernard  converted  living  faith  into 
practice,  and  he  possessed  the  power  of  describing 
what  took  place  in  his  innermost  mind.  Hugo, 
in  whom  also  stirred  the  living  faith,  set  to  work 
to  analyse  it,  with  all  the  keen  perception  of  an 
analytical  philosopher. 

The  theory  about  the  three  stages  of  the  con- 
dition of  the  mind,  cogitatio,  meditatio,'3,nd  contem- 
platio, — which  formed  such  an  important  factor 
in  the  mysticism  of  following  ages, — although 
first  promulgated  by  Hugo,  is  his  most  famous  but 
not  his  best  deed.  It  is,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  the 
practical  scheme  for  expressing  the  psychological 
experiences  w^hich  every  mystic  has  topass  through.^ 

^  Cogitatio    is    the    conception  of  things    through    the 
senses ;  meditatio  is  the  searching  into  the  hidden  mean 


MYSTICISM  OF  THE  ROMAN  CHURCH     161 

More  ingenious  than  this  theory  was  Hugo's 
psychological  definition  of  faith.  He  realised 
what  in  their  zeal  was  overlooked  by  the  great 
teachers  in  the  Christian  Church  who  after  him 
and  under  his  influence  built  up  their  systems, 
that  in  faith  two  things  have  to  be  specially  noted. 
The  one  is  cognitio,  recognition  (knowledge),  that 
which  is  apprehended  by  faith ;  and  the  other  is 
affectus,  the  condition  of  the  believing  soul.  He 
pointed  out  and  emphasised  that  real  faith  belongs 
to  this  latter  condition,  that  it  lies  in  the  direction 
of  the  heart,  while  the  apprehending  of  God  is 
concerned  with  the  will— "the  more  intense  the 
affections,  the  more  genuine  and  precious  the 
faith."  The  meritum  of  faith  lies  in  the  direction 
of  the  will,  in  the  turning  away  from  the  world  to 
God,  and  the  giving  up  of  oneself  to  holy  things. 
Therefore  the  Lord  says  to  the  woman  of  Canaan, 
who  had  little  knowledge  but  great  confidence  : 
''Woman,  great  is  thy  faith."  In  this  affectus 
lies  the  germ  of  Luther's  "  confidence  "  and 
Schleiermacher's  "  emotion,"  and    the   searching 

ing  of  the  thing  conceived;  contemplatio  is  the  insight 
which  is  thus  obtained  of  the  essence  of  things.  Hugo 
popularised  this  theory  by  comparing  it  to  three  eyes: 
the  eye  of  the  flesh,  the  eye  of  the  intellect,  and  the 
eye  of  the  spirit.  In  the  man  who  Uves  in  sin  the  third 
eye  is  bhnded,  but  to  him:  in  whom  the  Spirit  of  God 
dwells  this  eye  is  opened,  and  he  sees  heavenly  things  (ace 
to  face. 

II 


i6o 


MYSTICISM 


cism  was  the  easier  accomplished  as  the  pious  and 
learned  contemporary  of  St.  Bernard,  Hugo  a  St. 
Victor,  experienced  the  same  mystical  emotions 
as  the  great  Abbot  of  Clairvaux,  and  applied 
them  to  his  Scholastic  system.  Hugo's  mysticism 
is  the  scientific  counterpart  of  that  of  St.  Bernard. 
Possibly  the  young  scholar,  who  wrote  his  first 
treatise  during  his  novitiate  in  the  German  con- 
vent at  Hamersleben  (1115),  put  into  words 
thoughts  which  he  had  gathered  from  St.  Bernard's 
practical  piety  and  applied  to  his  own  way  of 
thinking.  At  any  rate  these  two,  starting  from 
the  same  point,  have  produced  a  totally  different 
result.  St.  Bernard  converted  living  faith  into 
practice,  and  he  possessed  the  power  of  describing 
what  took  place  in  his  innermost  mind.  Hugo, 
in  whom  also  stirred  the  living  faith,  set  to  work 
to  analyse  it,  with  all  the  keen  perception  of  an 
analytical  philosopher. 

The  theory  about  the  three  stages  of  the  con- 
dition of  the  mind,  cogitatio,  meditatio, 'diXiå  contem- 
platio, — which  formed  such  an  important  factor 
in  the  mysticism  of  following  ages, — although 
first  promulgated  by  Hugo,  is  his  most  famous  but 
not  his  best  deed.  It  is,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  the 
practical  scheme  for  expressing  the  psychological 
experiences  which  every  mystic  has  topass  through.^ 

^  Cogitatio    is    the    conception  of  things    through    the 
senses ;  meditatio  is  the  searching  into  the  hidden  mean 


MYSTICISM  OF  THE  ROMAN  CHURCH     161 

More  ingenious  than  this  theory  was  Hugo's 
psychological  definition  of  faith.  He  realised 
what  in  their  zeal  was  overlooked  by  the  great 
teachers  in  the  Christian  Church  who  after  him 
and  under  his  influence  built  up  their  systems, 
that  in  faith  two  things  have  to  be  specially  noted. 
The  one  is  cognitio,  recognition  (knowledge),  that 
which  is  apprehended  by  faith ;  and  the  other  is 
affectus,  the  condition  of  the  believing  soul.  He 
pointed  out  and  emphasised  that  real  faith  belongs 
to  this  latter  condition,  that  it  lies  in  the  direction 
of  the  heart,  while  the  apprehending  of  God  is 
concerned  with  the  will  —"  the  more  intense  the 
affections,  the  more  genuine  and  precious  the 
faith."  The  meritum  of  faith  lies  in  the  direction 
of  the  will,  in  the  turning  away  from  the  world  to 
God,  and  the  giving  up  of  oneself  to  holy  things. 
Therefore  the  Lord  says  to  the  woman  of  Canaan, 
who  had  little  knowledge  but  great  confidence  : 
"  Woman,  great  is  thy  faith."  In  this  affectus 
lies  the  germ  of  Luther's  "  confidence "  and 
Schleiermacher's  ''emotion,"  and   the   searching 

ing  of  the  thing  conceived ;  contemplatio  is  the  insight 
which  is  thus  obtained  of  the  essence  of  things.  Hugo 
popularised  this  theory  by  comparing  it  to  three  eyes: 
the  eye  of  the  flesh,  the  eye  of  the  intellect,  and  the 
eye  of  the  spirit.  In  the  man  who  hves  in  sin  the  third 
eye  is  bhnded,  but  to  him'  in  whom  the  Spirit  of  God 
dwells  this  eye  is  opened,  and  he  sees  heavenly  things  face 
to  face. 

II 


l62 


MYSTICISM 


into  these  psychological  conditions  has  decidedly 
been  one  of  the  chief  preparations  for  the  Evan- 
geUcal  definition  of  what  is  Christianity.  At  first 
the  seed  did  not  bear  much  fruit ;  it  was  well  nigh 
ground  to  powder  in  the  great  mill  of  Scholasticism. 
Hugo  was  eagerly  admitted  among  the  Fathers 
of  the  Church,  but  his  analyses  were  only  used 
as  they  fitted  into  their  systems. 

One  can  easily  understand  why  these  learned 
gentlemen  made  way  for  mysticism.  It  was  for 
them  the  Mount  of  Transfiguration,  where  one 
might  make  tabernacles  and  tarry  a  while  when 
weary  of  life.  They  did  practically  the  same  as 
the  Hindu  priests  ;  they  went  as  far  as  the  division 
of  the  ways,  where  the  ''  road  of  action  "  and  "  the 
road  of  knowledge  "  separate.  The  more  a  religion 
makes  redemption  dependent  upon  the  fulfilment  of 
duties — be  they  the  duties  of  the  priest  at  the  altar, 
or  of  the  layman  in  secular  life — the  greater  will 
become  the  impetus  to  take  refuge  in  self-absorption 
and  contemplation.  And  when  once  a  taste  has 
been  acquired  for  this  higher  accomplishment,  one 
is  apt  to  look  down  with  scorn  or  compassion  upon 
the  man  who  still  follows  the  road  of  action.  The 
Hindus  and  the  Persian  Sufis  held  that  there  was 
a  wide  gulf  fixed  between  this  higher  and  lower 
kind  of  piety.  But  the  Catholic  Church  formed 
one  brotherhood,  and  their  doctrine  was  one 
system.    A  bridge  must  therefore  be  laid  between 


MYSTICISM  OF  THE  ROMAN  CHURCH    163 

the  higher  and  the  lower  order,  for  even  the  smaUest 
gift  of  the  Church  contains  a  spark  of  the  Divine 
light.    An   amulet   as  well   as   deep   meditation 
ensures  this  quiet  rest  of  soul,  and  the  grace  which 
the  sacraments  impart  is  for  priests  and  laity  alike. 
But  the  priest  has  the  advantage  of  being  nearer 
to  the  source  of  light  and  life  ;    he  can  dispense 
with  many  things  which  remain  an  imperative 
duty  for  the  laity.     By  his  penitential  acts  as 
monk  he  has  performed  more  than  ordinary  lay 
duty,  therefore  he  has  a  higher  claim  to  the  coveted 
'*  rest,"  and  the  art  of  contemplation  which  he 
understands  gives  him  alone  an  entrance  into  the 
immediate  joy  of  the  Lord. 

Scholasticism,  then,  is  not  only  a  doctrine  teach- 
ing in  what  manner  the  gifts  of  grace  are  trans- 
mitted from  the  one  to  the  many,  from  God  to  His 
creatures,  but  it  also  points  out  how  the  elect  can 
find  the  way  to  God.     And  once  again  we  are 
amazed  at  the  large  percentage  of  Platonism  there 
is  in  the  Roman  Church,  for  the  steps  leading  into 
the  Holy  of  Holies  have  the  same  three  gradations 
as  in  the  Platonic  scale  of  ascent :   purification, 
illumination,  and  union. 

These  three  steps  have  been  Christianised  by 
St.  Bernard ;  he  who  ascends  by  them  becomes 
one  with  Christ.  The  participation  in  the  suffer- 
ings of  Christ  retains  its  appointed  place  as  a 
necessary  link  in  the  order  of  redemption ;  it  is 


164 


MYSTICISM 


the  katharsis,  the  being  purified  from  all  that 
separates  man  from  God,  and  which  formerly  was 
effected  by  the  sacrament  of  penitence.  To  believe 
in  Christ  is  the  highest  enlightenment,  the  imita- 
tion of  His  life,  the  surest  guide,  the  contemplative 
losing  of  self  in  the  mystery  of  His  incarnation, 
the  deepest  initiation  into  communion  with  God. 
And,  finally,  the  result  of  this  communion  is  the 
love  of  Christ,  union  with  Him  and  eternal  life. 

The  Scholastics,  however,  aspired  at  more  than 
mere  union  with  Christ.  In  the  triune  God  Him- 
self the  soul  desired  to  be  absorbed,  to  be  made  one 
with  God  the  Father  Himself ;  this  only  makes  its 
existence  a  true  reality.  Up  to  this  point  they 
reasoned  just  like  the  Hindus  and  the  Greeks,  but 
Scholasticism  went  a  step  farther.  For  it  is  not 
enough  to  be  made  one  with  God  through  appre- 
hension, as  the  Greeks  thought.  Thomas  Aquinas 
still  adhered  to  that  idea,  but  Duns  Scotus,  who  con- 
sidered the  question  from  a  more  natural  point  of 
view,  went  farther  than  he.  Absorption  in  God  by 
apprehension,  he  says,  can  only  be  enjoyed  by  the 
few  who  are  endowed  with  the  highest  spiritual 
gifts,  and  even  by  them  only  for  a  moment.  If 
this  union  is  really  to  be  the  object  of  human 
endeavour,  and  if  it  is  to  give  lasting  peace,  it  has 
to  enter  deeper  into  the  soul.  Then  it  requires  the 
giving  up  of  the  will  also.  Only  by  giving  up  one's 
own  will  absolutely  to  the  will  of  God,  in  order  that 


MYSTICISM  OF  THE  ROMAN  CHURCH     165 

God's  will  may  be  accomplished  in  man.   this 
mergmg  of  the  soul  in  God  can  be  completed     To 
this  man  can  attain.     It  is  wholly  and  entirely 
withm  his  reach.     It  can  even  become  a  condition 
m  which  he  permanently  lives.    And  with  this 
Scholastic  mysticism  leaves  the  seclusion  of  the 
closet  and  steps  forth  into  practical  life ;  is,  in  fact 
a  harbinger  of  the  coming  Reformation.    But  long 
before  this  thought  had  assumed  form  and  shape 
through  much  study  and  dUigent  inquiry,  devout 
men  in  active  life  had  lived  it,  it  had  made  Christian 
heroes  and  heroines  whose  names  are  recorded  in 
the  annals  of  mysticism. 

A  friar,  wishing  to  prove  the  pride  of  Francis  of 
Asstst,  asked  him  why  all  the  people  looked  up  to 
him,  listened  to  him,  and  wanted  to  obey  him 
And  Francis  answered  :  desirest  thou  to  know  why 
they  come  to  me,  why  all  the  world  follows  after 
me  ?     I  know,  for  the  omniscient  God  has  revealed 
It  to  me.  He  whose  eyes  are  on  the  good  and  on 
the  evU  in  all  the  earth.     It  is  because  His  holy 
eyes  have  found  nowhere  a  greater  and  more 
utterly  depraved  sinner  than  I  am.     Because  in 
the  whole  world  no  more  miserable  creature  could 
be  found  in  whom  to  accomplish  the  great  miracle 
that  He  intended  to  work.    That  is  why  He  has 
chosen  me  to  put  to  shame  the  great,  and  the  noble 
and  mighty,  the  world  of  beauty  and  of  wisdom. 
And  so  the  message  which  Christianity  had 


i66 


MYSTICISM 


come  to  preach,  that  "  all  worth  is  worthless," 
had  been  delivered.  The  ideal,  sketched  by 
St.  Augustine,  to  which  St.  Bernard  had  given 
colouring,  had  received  life,  had  become  a  man 
of  flesh  and  bone ;  barefooted  he  went  by  Italy's 
dusty  highways,  and  all  flocked  round  to  see,  to 
hear,  to  follow  after  him.  The  great  and  the 
noble  and  the  strong,  all  that  the  world  holds  in 
esteem,  had  ceased  to  be  of  value ;  all  is  as  naught 
to  him,  and  riches  may  not  even  be  mentioned. 
As  for  beauty  and  wisdom,  the  ideals  of  Greek 
philosophy,  he  disposes  of  them  also.  Even 
Biblical  knowledge  and  priestly  authority  shrivel 
into  nothing  before  this  man,  in  whom  the  Gospel 
had  become  alive,  and  who  obeyed  the  Church  to 
the  uttermost.  Once  a  brother  asked  him  if  he 
might  possess  a  Psalter.  St.  Francis  replied  : 
"  Man  can  learn  nothing  but  what  he  already 
knows.  If  to-day  thou  gettest  a  Psalter,  to- 
morrow thou  wilt  want  a  Breviary,  and  thou  wilt 
end  by  sitting  in  thy  chair  like  any  other  prelate 
and  saying,  '  Hand  me  my  Breviary.'  " 

There  only  remains  the  one  thing  that  is  needful : 
to  become  like  Christ,  to  bear  his  sufferings,  to  lead 
his  life  of  privation.  If  Christianity  consisted  in 
this  literal  and  exaggerated  imitation  of  Christ's 
life  on  earth,  Francis  of  Assisi  certainly  carried  it  out 
to  the  extreme,  and  there  would  have  been  no  need 
for  any  further  development  of  Christian  virtue. 


MYSTICISM  OF  THE  ROMAN  CHURCH     167 

Protestant  Christianity  set  up  another  ideal,  and 
tried  to  reach  the  goal  by  another  wav.     But  how 
could  she  ever  have  attained  it,  and  who  would 
have  listened  to  her  if  in  the  Franciscan  methods 
the  Christian  ideal  of  the  Middle  Ages  had  not  been 
carried  out  to  the  uttermost  and— found  wanting  ? 
The  Spanish  and  Italian  mendicant  Orders  had 
converted  St.  Bernard's  thinking  into  willing,  and 
this  exerting  of  the  will  and  the  constant '  con- 
centration  of  the  mind  upon  the  will  remained  for 
centuries  a  characteristic  feature  of  the  practical 
mysticism  south  of  the  Alps  and  Pyrenees.     In 
the  Franciscan  form  of  devotion  there  were  still 
traces   of    that    holy   longing   which   marks    St 
Bernard's  love  of  Christ,  and  which  is  not  only 
erotic,    but   fuU   of   actual   pain   and  hunger   to 
become  one  with  Christ  by  the  complete  giving 
up  of  one's  own  self.     This  pathological  state  of 
mind    breathes   in   the   obscure    and    incoherent 
effusions  of  the  Franciscan  poet,  Jacopone  de  Todi : 
*'  Amor,  amor,  Gesu  desideroso  !  " 

Love!  Love!  lovely  Jesus! 

Love,  I  will  die 

Embracing  thee. 

Sweet  Love,  Jesus  my  Bridegroom, 

Love,  Love,  Jesus,  thou  Holy  One, 

Give  me  thyself,  transform  me  into  thyself; 

Think,  that  I  am  in  rapture. 

That  I  have  lost  myself, 

Jesus  my  hope, 

Come,  sleep  in  love  1 


i68 


MYSTICISM 


In  the  writings  of  St.  Francis  himself  there  is 
nothing  of  this  sickly  effusiveness  ;  yet  he  also 
experienced  for  a  moment  this  highest  form  of 
rapture  in  the  rock  cave  of  Monte  Alverno,  where, 
as  the  legend  says,  when  in  an  ecstasy  of  prayer 
he  received  the  marks  of  the  wounds  of  the  Lord 
upon  his  own  person  and  became  as  Christ.  Un- 
speakable joy  thrilled  him,  to  make  room  a  moment 
later  for  the  stinging  pain  of  the  wounds.  When 
the  trance  was  past  he  saw  on  his  person  what 
had  happened.  His  union  with  Christ  was  now 
complete.  Both  in  body  and  in  soul  he  now  bore 
the  likeness  of  the  Crucified  One. 

In  the  hands  of  Francis  of  Assisi  all  things  became 
facts.  Even  as  his  Jesus-mysticism  is  completed 
in  his  own  flesh  and  blood,  so  the  pantheism  which 
lurks  in  all  mysticism  became  in  him  such  a  lively 
consciousness  of  God's  presence  in  nature,  that  he 
looked  upon  every  creature,  every  animal  and 
every  plant,  and  even  upon  inanimate  nature,  as 
his  familiar  friend  and  brother.  To  him  they  are 
all  God's  children,  and  he  sees  God's  glory  in  them. 
According  to  the  legend,  he  tamed  w^olves  as  easily 
as  the  wild  pigeons  which  flew  into  his  lap,  and 
it  is  not  at  all  impossible  to  believe  that,  in  defiance 
of  the  papal  scorn,  he  actually  did  preach  to 
the  swine  as  the  Holy  Father  is  alleged  to  have 
commanded  him  to  do. 

Before  leaving   Mount   St.  Alverno,  where  he 


MYSTICISM  OF  THE  ROMAN  CHURCH     169 

spent  such  happy  days  and  the  most  wonderful 
moments  of  his  life,  he  bade  farewell  to  all  that  grew 
and  lived  there— as  did  Sakuntala  when  she  left 
the  gazelles  and  mango  trees  of  her  solitudes. 
For  all  he  has  a  parting  word  of  greeting,  for  the 
trees  and  the  flowers,  the  falcon— the  "  brother 
falcon  "—which  every  morning  at  dawn  flew  into 
his  cave  to  warn  him  that  the  hour  of  prayer  had 
come.     Even  to  the  rock  he  speaks  as  to  a  friend  : 
"  Farewell,  thou  mountain  of  the  Lord,  thou  holy 
mount  where  it  has  pleased  God  to  dwell,  farewell, 
Monte  Alverno  !     God  the  Father,  the  Son,  and  the 
Holy  Ghost  bless  thee,  abide  in  peace ;  we  shall 
meet  no  more." 

The  intensity  of  his  love  of  nature  is  most 
powerfully  expressed  in  his  ''  Hymn  to  the  Sun," 
composed  by  St.  Francis  towards  the  close  of  his 
life  in  a  sudden  burst  of  inspiration.  He  sings 
God's  praise  for  brother  sun  and  sister  moon,  for 
mother  earth  and  sister  water  and  brother  fire. 
For  each  of  these  his  relatives  he  has  a  word  : 
sister  water  is  useful  and  humble,  precious  and 
chaste ;  while  brother  fire  is  beautiful  and  merry, 
strong  and  bold.  But,  before  all,  he  thanks  God 
for  the  sun,  which  by  its  brightness  and  majesty 
testifies  to  God's  glory. 

Here  he  touches  the  same  chord  which  vibrates 
in  Christ's  words  when  He  speaks  of  the  lUies 
of  the  field  and  the  birds  of  the  air.      But  for 


'"-^'**^'"'-^ 


170 


MYSTICISM 


St.  Francis  all  creatures  exist  not  merely  for  our 
reflection  and  consideration  ;  he  includes  them  all 
in  his  intense,  large-hearted  Christian  love,  which 
places  his  love  of  nature  almost  on  a  level  with  the 
modern  conception  of  it  in  its  most  comprehensive 
form.  And  for  this  reason  it  is  but  natural  that 
this  hymn  should  be  revived  in  our  day  to  express 
our  latest  mood.  Renan  calls  it  the  finest  psalm 
in  existence,  and  Anatole  France  put  it  into 
French  verse.  And,  however  strange  it  may 
appear  that  the  '*  Hymn  of  Praise  "  of  Francis  of 
Assisi  should  lend  words  to  the  lyre  of  Darwinism, 
yet  there  surely  is  a  bond  of  union  in  the  enthusiasm 
of  the  two.  In  both,  relationship  with  nature  is 
felt.  For  the  modern  mind  this  feeling  is  based 
on  his  knowledge  of  nature,  on  his  insight  into 
the  organic  connection  of  the  world,  and  what  he 
lacks  in  penetration  he  supplements  by  his  theory 
about  the  unity  and  all-comprehensiveness  of 
nature,  a  theory  which  has  its  root  in  Spinoza  and 
natural  pantheism.  For  St.  Francis  this  relation- 
ship with  nature  was  the  natural  bond  of  all 
created  things  in  God  ;  a  fraternisation  of  all 
reasonable  and  unreasonable  creatures  of  God's 
hand.  The  idea  of  God  underlying  this  conception, 
and  which  St.  Francis,  the  practical,  never  clearly 
defined,  distinctly  reminds  one  of  the  all-embracing, 
all-quickening  God  of  natural  mysticism,  the 
inheritance  of  the  Scholasticism  of  the  Areopagite ; 


MYSTICISM  OF  THE  ROMAN  CHURCH     171 

and  so  the  pantheistic  root  is  not  lacking  here 
either.  It  was  quite  in  accordance  with  the  piety 
emanating  from  St.  Francis  that  the  Scholastic 
Orders  of  mendicant  friars— and  especially  the 
Dominicans— should  give  pantheistic  mysticism 
such  an  important  place  in  their  system,  and  it 
seems  but  natural  that  the  German  Dominican 
Order,  after  freeing  itself  from  the  old  system, 
plunged  into  a  Christian  mysticism  which  was 
permeated  with  pantheism. 


IX.  GERMAN   MYSTICISM 

Among  the  many  letters  received  by  St.  Bernard 
from  far  and  near  in  the  course  of  his  stirring 
career,  there  is  one  which  must  have  touched  him 
very  especially.  It  is  from  the  noble  lady  Hilde- 
garda,  a  nun  in  the  convent  of  Rupertsberg,  near 
Bingen.  St.  Bernard,  being  a  man  who  went  deep 
down  to  the  root  of  things,  must  have  read  be- 
tween the  lines  of  the  letter,  written  in  bad  Latin, 
what  was  the  cause  of  Hildegarda's  trouble.  It 
is  difficult  to  translate  this  epistle  in  modern 
language,  nor  can  one  quite  get  over  this  difficulty 
by  leaving  out  some  of  the  passages  which  defy 
translation.  It  runs  somewhat  as  follows  :  '*  It 
has  been  revealed  to  me  in  spirit.  Reverend  Father, 
to  address  myself  to  thee  ;  for  special  grace  has 
been  given  thee  to  discern  between  the  power  of 
God  and  the  sinful  foolishness  of  the  flesh  :  to 
thee  who,  in  thy  burning  love  for  the  Son  of  God, 
canst  induce  men  to  fight  in  the  Christian  army, 
under  the  banner  of  the  Cross  against  the  abomina- 
tion of  tyranny.    To  thee  I  must  confess  that  I 

am  bound  in  spirit  concerning  a  vision  which  I 

172 


GERMAN  MYSTICISM  173 

have  seen  in  my  innermost  mind  but  not  with 
my  bodily  eyes.     I,   most   miserable  creature,— 
and  doubly  miserable  because  I  am  a  woman,— 
have  from  my  chHdhood  had  great  and  wonderful 
visions,  of  things  which  I  cannot  put  into  words, 
except  the  Spirit  of  God  gives  the  words  into  my 
mouth  wherewith  to  express  them.     Kind   and 
gentle  Father,  in  thy  goodness  listen  to  me,  thine 
unworthy  handmaid,  who  has  never  known  peace 
from  her  youth  upward.     From  the  experience 
of  thine  own  piety  and  wisdom  I  beseech  thee 
to  understand  me  in  thy  spirit  as  the  Holy  Ghost 
shall  teach  thee.     I  can  discern  the  inner  meaning 
of  the  contents  of  the  Psalter  and  of  the  Gospels 
and  of  the  other  books  of  the  Bible.     They  are 
made  clear  to  me  in  my  visions;    my  heart  is 
stirred  and  my  spirit  burns  within  me  like  a  flame 
of  fire,  and  I  read  the  depth  of  the  inner  meaning, 
but  I  cannot  read  it  in  my  own  language,  for  I 
cannot   read   German.     This   much   I   can   read 
in  the  simplicity  of  my  heart  without  cavilling 
of  words,  because  I  am  unlearned  and  have  not 
been  taught  in  any  school.     But  internally,  in 
my  soul  I  have  been  taught,  and  from  my  soul 
I  speak  to  thee,  never   doubting  that   thou  wilt 
comfort  me  of  thy  wisdom  and  piety  concerning 
the  many  disputes  and  differences  which  I  am 
told  there  are  in  the  world.  .  .  .  Two  years  ago 
I  saw  thee  in  a  vision,  gazing  up  into  the  sun  ; 


174 


MYSTICISM 


fearless   and   bold.    And    I    wept    and   blushed 
because  I  was  afraid. 

"  Good  and  gentle  Father,  take  pity  on  me ;  pray 
for  me,  for  I  am  troubled  concerning  this  vision, 
whether  I  ought  to  tell  what  I  heard  and  saw. 
Often  when  I  feel  very  miserable  at  the  time  that 
these  revelations  come  to  me,  I  have  to  lie  down 
on  my  bed,  because  they  take  such  hold  of  me 
that  I  cannot  move.  Therefore  I  now  come  to 
thee  in  my  sore  need,  for  I  am  easily  shaken  as 
a  reed  in  the  wind  ;  my  human  nature  is  crushed 
within  me,  as  it  were  in  an  oil-mill,  for  it  is  of  the 
seed  of  Adam,  and  I  am  a  wanderer  in  a  strange 
world  among  the  deceits  of  the  devil.  But  now 
I  have  pulled  myself  together  and  flee  to  thee. 
And  I  say  :  thou  also  art  easily  bent  and  shaken, 
but  thou  hast  the  strength  to  straighten  thyself 
again  like  a  tree,  and  thou  canst  raise  not  only  thy- 
self but  others  also,  to  see  salvation.  Thou  art  as 
an  eagle  which  looks  into  the  sun.  By  the  purity 
of  the  Father  and  of  the  Word,  which  is  wonderful ; 
by  the  gentle  dew  of  the  heart's  desire,  i.e.  the  Spirit 
of  truth  ;  by  the  sacred  notes  which  ring  throughout 
all  creation,  and  by  the  Word  itself  by  which  the 
world  was  made  ;  by  the  Majesty  of  the  Father, 
Who  of  His  infinite  might  sent  down  the  Word 
into  the  womb  of  the  Virgin,  of  whom  He 
was  made  man,  as  honey  is  contained  in  wax, 
by  these  I  entreat  thee  not  to  remain  cold  and 


GERMAN  MYSTICISM  175 

deaf  to  my  supplications,  but  that  thou  wHt 
take  my  words  to  heart,  and,  when  thou  art 
m  the  spirit,  beseech  God  for  me,  for  He  inclines 
His  ear  to  thee.  Farewell,  fare  thou  well  in 
thy  soul,  be  strong  in  God  in  the  fight  1 
Amen.^'  ^ 

The  woman  who  pours  out  her  soul  in  these 
passionate,   incoherent   phrases  is  one   of   those 
complex  natures,  strong  and  yet  sickly,  in  whom 
the  mystical  notion  of  participating  in  the  suffer- 
ings  of  Christ  becomes  a  living  reality.     For,  on 
German  soil  also,   this  was  to  be  accomplished, 
and  here  women  led  the  way.     So  we  see  that 
occasionally  there  is  use  for  women.     When  the 
men  have  come  to  a  deadlock  in  their  learning, 
and  their  inner  experiences  have  grown  hard  in 
the   clutches   of   their   Latin   systems,    then   life 
seeks  out   the  women,   that    they  may  live  it. 
Mysticism  found  its  women  on  the  Rhine  and  the 
Scheldt.     They  transformed   mysticism  from  an 
affair  of  the  mind  into  an  affair  of  the  heart,  into 
a  weU  bubbling  over  with  emotion,  such  as  is 
only  found  in  Germanic  races,  and  preferably  in 
their    women.     To    the    nuns    of    Germany    and 
Flanders  belongs  the  undisputed  honour  of  having 
been  the  first  to  concencrate  all  their  attention, 
their  whole  being,  upon  the  love  of  Christ,— for 
long  before  St.  Francis  this  movement  had 'com- 
menced,—and  they  opened  a  chapter  in  the  history 


176 


MYSTICISM 


of  the  Church,  in  v  hich  the  Germanic  nations 
were  the  leaders. 

One  other  fact  has  to  be  mentioned  about  the 
Rhineland  and  Flemish  nuns,  with  whom  German 
mysticism  originated,  namely,  that  in  our  days 
they  would  probably  all  have  been  shut  up  in  a 
lunatic  asylum,or  at  least  looked  upon  as  demented. 
Even  Hildegarda,  with  all  her  self-possession,  has, 
as  her  letter  tells  us,  her  moments  of  mental 
aberration.  When  a  trance  seizes  her  she  has  to 
lie  in  bed  and  cannot  speak  or  move.  In  the 
Middle  Ages  such  attacks  were  not  treated  medi- 
cinally. The  person  thus  afflicted  was  said  to  be 
*'  possessed,"  whether  of  the  spirit  of  God  or  of 
the  devil  remained  to  be  proved.  Most  often  the 
judgment  wavered  towards  leniency,  as  the  history 
of  the  lives  of  the  saints  abundantly  proves.  The 
indulgence  shown  to  these  hysterical  women  may 
have  been  due  to  the  fact  that  their  visions  and 
prophecies  were  often  a  power  in  the  hands  of  the 
Church,  or  that  they  were  under  the  patronage  of 
influential  religious  systems  or  sects.  Certain  it 
is  that  the  "  possessed  "  were  more  often  crowned 
as  saints  than  burnt  as  witches.  And  this  was 
to  the  advantage  of  the  Church.  The  Catholic 
Church  realised  that  it  was  wise  to  give  full  play 
to  religious  enthusiasm,  even  when  it  verged  on 
madness,  and  with  amazing  forbearance  she  often 
allowed  the   billows  of  pious  frenzy  to  rise  and 


GERMAN  MYSTICISM  177 

break  furiously  against  the  ship  of  the  Church, 
being  well  aware  that  the  straight  course  is  not 
always  the  best  course,  and  that  it  would  be 
possible,  when  weeding  out  the  tares,  to  pluck  up 
the  wheat  also. 

If  it  was  spiritual  life  which  stirred  in  Hilde- 
garda of  Bingen,  and  MechthHda  of  Magdeburg, 
in  Elisabeth  of  Schonau,  and  Maria  of  Ognis,  and 
all  the  rest  of  that  sisterhood,  it  certainly  was 
not  life  lived  on  straight  lines.     But  all  this  took 
place  in  times  when  there  was  room  for  strong 
emotions,  and  in  countries  renowned  for  their  piety. 
The  Rhine  districts,  as  well  as  Flanders,  were  in 
those  days  (twelfth  and  thirteenth  centuries)  so 
surfeited  with  nunneries  that  those  regions  were 
looked  upon  by  the  religious  connoisseurs  as  Edens 
of  bliss.  Paradises  of  sanctity  from  which  nothing 
but  good  could  be  expected. 

This  was  fortunate  for  a  little  girl,  Christine 
of  St.  Troud.  Her  historical  renown  commenced 
with  her  being  carried  into  the  church  on  a  bier, 
and  apparently  dead.  While  the  masses  for  the 
dead  were  being  read,  the  child  suddenly  arose, 
and,  swift  as  the  wind,  clambered  up  into  the 
rafters  of  the  building,  where  she  balanced  her- 
self to  the  consternation  of  all  present,  and  would 
not  come  down  until  the  priest  adjured  her  by 
the  sacrament  to  do  so.     From  that  time  forward 

Christine  was  always  to  be  found  on  high  places, 
12 


178 


MYSTICISM 


in  the  tops  of  trees  or  on  mountain  heights,  on 
church  towers  and  house  roofs,  and  if  any  one 
attempted  to  bind  her,  she  tore  the  bonds  away. 
When  a  fit  of  frenzy  overtook  her,  she  would  whirl 
round  and  round  with  such  incredible  rapidity 
that  nothing  of  her  could  be  distinguished,  and 
when  quiet  again  she  would  burst  forth  into 
wonderful  singing,  but  the  words  of  her  song 
no  one  could  interpret.  It  was  whispered  that 
she  was  a  witch,  but  as  she  was  otherwise  good 
and  tractable,  and — fortunately  for  herself — in 
her  moods  of  ecstatic  rapture  invoked  Christ  and 
not  the  devil,  they  let  her  be,  until  one  day  they 
dipped  her  into  the  holy  water  and  kept  her  there 
so  long  that  she  was  nearly  drowned.  This  cured 
her  both  of  her  whirling  and  climbing,  and  she  lived 
as  a  respectable  nun  to  her  seventy-fourth  year. 

In  the  ranks  of  mystical  women  Christine 
figured  rather  as  a  natural  curiosity  than  as  a 
saint,  and  Maria  of  Ognis  was  not  behind  her 
in  this  respect.  Her  nervous  abnormality  took 
the  form  of  inexhaustible  physical  strength. 
She  was  impervious  to  cold  ;  in  the  severest  frost 
she  could  sleep  comfortably  on  the  flagstones  of 
the  church.  The  gift  of  weeping  she  possessed 
above  all  other  women.  She  could  weep  floods  of 
tears,  so  that  her  long  tresses  and  the  ground  on 
which  she  lay  were  soaked.  But  the  effect  on  her 
was  invigorating.     Besides  these  strange  physical 


GERMAN  MYSTICISM  179 

phenomena,  we   notice  peculiar   moral   traits  in 
her.     Anything  sinful  or  unclean  put  her  into  a 
passion  of  disgust.     Once  passing  through  a  street 
m  which  there  were  houses  of  pleasure,  she  was 
ready  to  tear  the  skin  off  the  soles  of  her  feet 
because  she  had  stepped  in  so  unclean  a  place 
Compassion  she  felt  so  strongly  that  it  became 
physical  suffering  to  her.     When  she  nursed  the 
sick  she  felt  their  pains  in  her  own  body.     Her 
sympathy  went  deeper  stiU.     If  she  was  in  one 
of  her  ecstasies,  and  they  were  generally  very  deep, 
—once  she  was  for  thirty-five  days  without  food! 
and  the  only  words  she  uttered  were  :  ''  I  desire 
the  body  of  the  Lord,  "-she  could  only  be  roused 
from  her  state  of  stupor  by  being  told  that  a 
sick  person  needed  her.     Then  she  would  tear 
herself  out  of  her  trance,  sometimes  with  such  force 
that  she  vomited  blood. 

A  similar  kind  of  exaggerated  sensitiveness 
characterised  Margareta  of  Ypern  ;  she  was  so 
great  a  man-hater  that  even  the  neighbourhood 
of  a  boy  was  painful  to  her— the  negative  result 
of  a  passionate  affection,  which  was  satisfied 
when  she  chose  Christ  for  her  bridegroom.  She 
revelled  in  His  beauty,  and  when  she  had  partaken 
of  the  sacrament  she  preserved  the  taste  of  the 
host  for  a  fortnight. 

When  Mechthilda  of  Magdeburg,  the  most  noted 
of  aU  these  women,  and  a  highly  gifted  lady  of 


i8o 


MYSTICISM 


noble  birth,  took  to  the  religious  life  and  retired 
from  the  world,  she  said :  *'  I  gazed  on  my  dead 
body  ;  it  was  heavily  armed,  and  oppressed  my 
soul  with  great  physical  power."  To  escape 
eternal  death  she  thought  she  had  to  slay  her 
body.  Therefore  she  looked  round  for  weapons 
wherewith  to  defend  her  soul,  and  found  the 
pains  and  sufferings  of  Jesus  Christ.  *'  With 
these  I  defended  my  soul."  The  power 
which  stimulated  her  she  called  *'  Love." 
Mechthilda  is  the  first  of  these  women  who  was 
mistress  of  the  art  which  even  a  Hildegarda  never 
mastered  ;  she  could  read  and  write  her  mother 
tongue,  and  so  accomplished  was  she  in  this  respect 
that  a  man  of  high  intellectual  standing  a  hundred 
years  later  could  write  of  her  book  that  it  was 
written  in  the  most  delightful  German,  and  was 
the  most  touching  love-story  he  had  ever  read  in 
the  German  language. 

**  Love,  thou  hast  taken  from  me  worldly  honour 
and  riches,"  writes  Mechthilda  in  looking  back 
upon  her  life.  *'  Would  I  had  never  known  thee, 
for  thou  hast  persecuted  me,  captured  me,  bound 
me  and  wounded  me  so  deeply  that  I  shall  never 
recover  of  my  hurt."  But  to  God  she  at  last 
yielded  herself  unreservedly,  after  much  futile 
struggling.  '*  Gentle  God,  what  didst  Thou  see 
in  me  ?  Thou  knowest  that  I  am  a  poor  creature  : 
should  not  these  things  be  given  to  the  wise  ?  " 


GERMAN  MYSTICISM  i8i 

Then  the  Lord  was  angry  with  her :    "  Art  thou 
not   mine  ?    tell  me."-"  Yes,  Lord,  that  is  my 
desu-e.-"  Shall  I  then  not   do  with  thee  as  it 
pleases  me  ?  "— "  Yes,  Beloved,  even  if  it  kill  me." 
Well  might  Mechthilda  tremble,  with  the  fear 
of  the  prophet  Jeremias,  at  the  work  to  which 
she  was  called.     She,  like  he,  had  to  announce  the 
destruction  of  Jerusalem.     Her  name  is  recorded, 
together  with  the  names  of  Hildegarda  and  Elisa- 
beth of  Schonau,  of  Catherine  of  Siena  and  Bridget, 
among  the  women  who  in  sorrow  and  grief  of  heart 
prophesied  against  the  Church,  and  predicted  her 
tragic   fall  unless  she  altered  her  ways.    Here 
again  the  women  were  at  their  post  and  did  the 
right  thing.    They  were  not  of  the  clergy,  and 
could  not  enter  into  the  many  subterfuges  with 
which  the  latter  tried  to  cover  up  their  many 
shortcomings ;    it  was  much  the  same  then  as  it 
is  now,  the  women  got  the  better  of  the  men. 
So  little  passive  were  they  in  their  mysticism  that 
they  made  of  it  a  fruitless  fight  for  a  moral  ideal 
This  ideal  Mechthilda  found  in  her  fanatical  love 
for  Jesus.     She  became  one  with  Him  by  "  placing 
the  desire  of  her  heart  in  His  divine  heart." 
"  He,  thy  life,  died  for  love  of  thee  ;   let  thy  love 
for  Him  be  so  strong  that  thou  canst  die  for  Him. 
Then  thou  shalt  burn  for  ever  as  a  living  spark  in 
the  fire  of  the  Everlasting  Majesty."    How  closely 
she  touches  here  upon  the  Hindu  notion  of  the 


l82 


MYSTICISM 


spark  which  sinks  back  into  the  fire  of  the  God- 
head, yet  what  a  difference  !  There  the  swallowing 
up  of  man  into  the  impersonal  universe  ;  here 
the  heart's  longing  desire  to  rest  in  God's  love. 
When  she  thinks  of  God  she  sees  him  as  he  appears 
to  her  in  her  trances,  an  effulgent  light ;  and  so  she 
calls  her  book  ''The  Effulgence  of  Divine  Light.'' 

Above  the  personal  God  is  the  impersonal 
Godhead.  The  way  to  Him  leads  through  the 
humiliation  of  Christ,  and  the  barrier  can  only 
be  crossed  by  ecstatic  rapture.  There  the  inner 
sight  which  is  given  to  the  pious  soul  sees  the 
eternal  light,  which  is  the  spring  and  fountain 
from  which  all  things  flow.  "  The  true  blessing 
of  God  is  as  a  stream  in  which  the  holy  Trinity 
moves,  and  by  which  the  soul  lives."  Thus  the 
loving,  musing  women  end  in  the  same  way  as  the 
speculative  men  who  summarised  their  philosophy 
in  a  conception  of  God,  which  was  pantheistic  in 
its  nature,  and  by  which  they  entered  into  a  rela- 
tionship with  God  which  made  them  equal  to  God. 

The  strong  em.otional  experiences  of  the  women 
of  the  age  were  not  the  only  effects  of  mysticism 
in  the  twelfth  and  thirteenth  centuries.  They  were 
but  as  the  violent  vibrations  of  the  compass  needle, 
when  the  air  is  charged  with  electricity.  Truly 
those  times  were  pregnant  with  mysticism,  and 
ihe  life  led  behind  the  convent  walls  communicated 
itself  in  wider  circles  to  the  laity.    The  lay  societies 


GERMAN  MYSTICISM 


183 


and  brotherhoods  arising,  partly  in  connection 
with  the  monastic  orders,  and  partly  as  civil 
counterparts  of  these,  were  generally  deeply 
tinged  with  mysticism,  and  this  was  particularly 
the  case  with  the  society  of  the  so-called  '*  Friends 
of  God,"  which  originated  in  Alsace.  The  name 
alone  shows  that  their  aim  was  intimacy.  The 
name  "  friend  "  used  in  such  circles  suggests  not 
only  sectarianism,  but  also  mysticism.  Did  not 
the  Persian  Sufi  address  the  deity  preferably  as 
"  the  Friend,"  and  what  intensity  of  meaning  has 
not  John's  Gospel  given  to  the  word  '^friend," 
where  it  says  :  ''  I  call  you  not  servants,  but 
friends  "  I 

To  this  mystical  society  belonged  the  worthy 
citizen  Rulman  Mersvin  of  Strassburg,  whose 
house  was  a  place  of  refuge  for  many  "  Friends  of 
God."  His  book,  The  Nine  Rocks,  places  him  in 
the  ranks  of  the  mystical  writers,  beginning  with 
the  author  of  the  Persian  poem,  the  ''  Flight  of 
the  Birds  "  (see  page  71),  and  stretching  as  far 
as  John  Bunyan  and  his  Pilgrim's  Progress.  They 
all  describe  the  various  stages  which  the  soul  has 
to  pass  through,  and  the  increasingly  difficult 
obstacles  which  have  to  be  surmounted  before 
it  can  attain  to  perfection  and  meet  with  God. 

In  Southern  Europe  the  Waldenses  were  the 
chief  supporters  of  lay  mysticism  ;  in  the  Nether- 
lands we  find  it  in  the  remarkable  brotherhood 


i84 


MYSTICISM 


I    I 


Hi 


called  the ' '  Brotherhood  of  Common  Life."  To  their 
first  head,  Gerhard  de  Groot  (d.  1384),  they  owe  the 
two  words  which  characterise  the  spiritual  direc- 
tion of  common  life.  The  one  is  the  Socratic  : 
"  True  knowledge  is  to  know  nothing."  The 
other  is  the  word  he  spoke  on  his  death-bed : 
"  Behold,  I  am  called  of  the  Lord;  St.  Augustine 
and  St.  Bernard  knock  at  the  door." 

The  fact  that  in  the  Catholic  Church  lay  piety 
tended  to  mysticism  is  not  surprising,  considering 
that  clerical  piety  inclined  in  the  same  direction, 
only  in  the  latter  case  it  was  founded  on  Scholasti- 
cism, and  fenced  round  by  Church  and  Hierarchy. 
Where  these  three  factors  are  absent,  the  mysticism 
that  is  left  is  not  a  miserable  remnant,  but  the 
real  jewel.  Hitherto  only  a  reflection  of  its 
radiance  had  fallen  on  the  laity,  while  the  clergy 
had  the  exclusive  enjoyment  of  its  full  brilliancy. 
But  now  laymen  were  determined  also  to  have 
their  share ;  there  was  to  be  a  wider  circulation 
of  the  benefits  which  religion  offered ;  and  so  here, 
towards  the  close  of  the  Middle  Ages,  was  repeated 
what  took  place  in  India  when  the  military  class 
exacted  the  right  of  practising  asceticism,  or  when 
in  the  middle  ages  of  the  Indian  Empire  the  lower 
castes  also  pressed  forward  and  insisted  on  par- 
ticipating in  the  benefits  springing  from  sacerdotal 
piety.  The  revolutionary  tendency  of  this  move- 
ment was  most  perceptible  in  the  society  called 


/ 


GERMAN  MYSTICISM 


1S5 


"  The  Brothers  and  Sisters  of  the  Free  Spirit  " 
which  burst  not  only  the  ecclesiastical  but  also  the 
moral  bounds,  and  ended  in  pantheistic  fanaticism 
Other    really    pious    Christian    sects    became 
permeated  with   the   same   spirit  of  democracy. 
Mysticism    became    a    general  practice,  whereas 
formerly  it  could  only  be  indulged  in  under  the 
auspices    of    the    Church.     The    short    duration 
and  sad  fate  of  these  societies,  however,  proves 
effectually    that    Church    organisation    is    not    a 
superfluous  element,  at  any  rate  not  where  mysti- 
cism IS  concerned,  and  that  mysticism  does  not 
contam  the  elements  for  drawing  people  lastingly 
together.     How  good  it  would  have  been  if  these 
sympathetic   friendly   societies   had   become   the 
basis  of  a  Protestant  lay-brotherhood,  which  in 
the  place  of  the  monastic  orders  could  have  per- 
petuated the  goodly  inheritance  of  monastic  life, 
namely,    self-renunciation,    quietness    of    mind' 
charity.     When  the  Reformation  came,  the  day  of 
all  these  societies  was  over,  and  no  need  was  felt 
for  again  calling   into   existence   anvthing   that 
flavoured  of  monasticism. 

Yet  that  generation  of  compassionate,  self- 
denying,  meditative  people  formed  the  '  back- 
ground from  which  presently  should  step  forth 
the  three  great  Masters,  the  coryphei  of  German 
mysticism:  Master  Eckhart  (d,  1327),  Henry 
Suso  {d.  1361),  and  John  Tauler  (d.  1361).     In 


i86 


MYSTICISM 


them  the  fruit  ripened  which  could  hardly  have 
come  to  maturity  if  it  had  not  been  nourished 
by  the  lives  of  thousands  of  pious  souls  ;  and  to 
them  it  was  permitted  to  finish  the  work,  which 
assuredly  would  not  have  been  the  case  if  they 
had  not  been  backed  up  by  all  those  thousands. 

Scarce  seventy  years  ago  Martensen  taught  that 
Eckhart  was  the  greatest  of  the  three,  the  *'  Patri- 
arch of  German  Speculation  "  ;  the  "  Master  of 
the  whole  School,"  "  the  one  in  whom  mysticism 
is  seen  in  striking  originality."      All  this  he  is 
no  longer  to  us.     Father  Denifle  has  satisfactorily 
proved    that    Eckhart's    speculation    was    taken 
directly  from  the  writings  of  Thomas  of  Aquinas, 
that  it  shows  no  breach  with  Scholasticism,  but 
rather  is  carried  on,  on  perfectly  correct  scholastic 
lines,    more    especially    noticeable    in    Eckhart's 
Latin  works.     But  for  all  that,  it  is  not  surprising 
that  Martensen  should  single  him  out  and  extol 
him  as  the  greatest  of  the  three  masters.     For 
Eckhart— like    the    celebrated    Bishop   himself— 
was  of  a  speculative  turn  of  mind,  to  whom  the 
philosophy  in  mysticism  appealed  most  strongly. 
On  this  point,  however,  the  German  mystic  had 
but  little  scope  for  originality,  considering  that 
so  many  others  had  already  been  exhaustively 
at  work  in  this  field  before  him. 

The  seventeen  pages  of  quotations  from  Eck- 
hart's sermons  which   form  the  groundwork   of 


GERMAN  MYSTICISM 


187 


Martensen's  biography  of  him,  still  rank,  in  spite 
of  what  Preger  and  Denifle  may  say,  as  one  of 
the  finest  expositions  of  this  mystic's  train  of 
thought.     From   this   we   learn   to   what   extent 
the  lecturer  of   Cologne,  who   has   always   been 
looked  upon  as  a  pillar  of  the  Church,  was  panthe- 
istic in  his  views,  and  how  closely  he  followed  in 
the  footsteps  of  the  Areopagite  and  Erigena,  so 
that  his  theology,  compared  with  the  teachings  of 
St.  Bernard  and  St.  Victor,  might  almost  be  called 
a   retrogression.     God   is   before   all   things   the 
pure  essence  of  being.     His  most  exalted  name 
is  the  lam;  He  is  the  indiscriminate,  the  infinite, 
the  '' negation  of  finiteness."     Here  we  certainly 
touch  the  beginning  of  German  philosophy,  for 
Hegel's  philosophical  nonsense  about  the  ^legation 
of  the  negative  had   already   been   expressed   by 
Eckhart.     No  wonder  that  Hegel  was  enthusiastic 
about   him.     Sometimes  he  calls   God  a   Being, 
sometimes  he  says  that  He  is  not  that,  but  that 
He  is—can  any  one  grasp  it  ?— ''  disnaturalised 
Nature  "  !  revealing  itself  as  "  Naturalised  Nature  " 
in  the  Trinity,  the  three  Persons  in  which  the 
Godhead   comprehends   and   reveals   itself.     This 
is  bad  Platonism,  after  the  manner  of  the  Areopa- 
gite,  and  would  be  innocent  and  amusing  enough 
if  it  did  not  entail  the  consequence  that  God  is  not 
good,  that  I  need  not  be  grateful  to  God  for  His 
love  because  He  only  acts  by  internal  compulsion ; 


i88 


MYSTICISM 


that  God  loves  nothing  outside  of  Himself,  and 
that  all  His  love  is  absorbed  in  Himself  ;  that 
God  can  no  more  do  without  us  than  we  can  do 
without  Him,  and  so  on.  From  such  puerile 
Christian  principles,  pure  natural  mysticism  is 
deduced :  All  creatures  aim  at  becoming  like 
God.  If  God  were  not  in  all  things  there  would 
be  no  operative  power,  no  desire  in  nature  ...  if 
a  man  w^ere  thirsty,  he  would  not  drink  unless 
there  was  a  divine  element  in  what  he  drank. 
And  so  we  go  on  until  we  reach  the  unity  of  God 
and  the  soul,  which  the  Persians — and  the  Hindu 
mystics  in  our  day — express  by  the  symbol  of  the  sun 
and  the  mirror,  and  which  means  that  man  is  born 
of  God,  and  God  in  man.  .  .  .  "  It  is  the  Father's 
nature  to  beget  the  Son,  and  it  is  the  Son's  nature 
to  be  born,  and  that  I  should  be  born  in  Him ;  like- 
wise it  is  the  Spirit's  nature  that  I  should  be  con- 
sumed in  Him,  and  be  transformed  into  pure  love." 
God  has  become  man,  that  I  might  become  God. 
God  has  died  that  I  might  die  unto  the  world  and 
all  that  is  therein. 

All  the  same,  Eckhart  would  probably  not  have 
been  accused  of  heresy  if  all  that  he  taught  had 
been  taken  directly  from  St.  Thomas.  As  it  was, 
he  would  scarcely  have  escaped  the  stake  had  any 
other  but  the  Order  of  the  Dominican  friars  sat 
in  judgment  upon  him.  The  remarkable  part  of 
his  teaching  is  that  this  pantheistic  fatalism,  which 


GERMAN  MYSTICISM 


189 


for  the  orthodox  Fathers  of  the  Church  was  merely 
mtellectual  recreation,  was  for  Eckhart  a  matter 
of  vital  importance  and  practical  reality.     For  if 
It  be  true  that  God  is  so  near  to  us  that  He  is  in  the 
water  that  we  drink,  why  then  all  this  circumlocution 
when  we  want  to  draw  near  to  God  ?     What  need 
IS    there    of    Church    ceremonies?     Why    should 
penances  and  sacraments  be  the  only  way  by  which 
the  Church  can  approach  God  ?     In  other  words, 
IS  the  gulf  between  the  kingdom  of  grace  and  the 
kmgdom  of  nature—which  Scholasticism  preached 
and  on  which  the  Church  trades—really  as  great 
as  is  maintained  ?     Or,  indeed,  is  there  any  gulf 
at  all  ?     If  God  is  in  aU  things,  then  grace  is  every- 
where in  nature;    what  need,   then,   of  priestly 
mediation  and  sacramental  apparatus  ?     Such  was 
the  startling  conclusion  which  Eckhart  sprang  upon 
the  Church,   however  guardedly  he  expressed  it, 
and  when  it  came  to  the  ears  of  the  authorities  the 
lecturer  was  called  to  account,  and  made  to  recaU 
his  words.     He  had  drawn  the  same  conclusion 
which  Hindus  and  Persians  had  drawn  before  him  : 
why  walk  any  longer  on  the  road  of  action,  after 
we  have  found  the  way  of  apprehension  ?     WTiat 
further  need  of  message  or  messenger  when  I  can 
safely  rest  on  the  Sultan's  breast  ? 

Yet  another  conclusion  Eckhart  drew  from  his 
speculative  theology.  If  the  essence  of  God's 
being  is  constantly  to  be  the  subject  of  our  medita- 


I  go 


MYSTICISM 


tion,  why  not  also  the  essence  of  our  own  being  ? 
If  with  God  all  is  internal,  why  should  with  men  all 
be  external.  Why  external  deeds,  external  con- 
fession, external  sanctification  ?  Here  Eckhart 
becomes  evangelical  and  positive  in  his  teaching. 
In  considering  man's  duty  he  lays  the  full  stress 
on  the  inner  habitus  of  men,  on  his  abiding  condition, 
his  ' '  Seelengrund, ' '  as -he  calls  it .  It  is  there  that  the 
new  Adam  must  be  born ;  there  we  must  realise  what 
we  are.  The  question  is  not  what  one  does,  but 
what  one  is.  Here  is  a  specimen  of  his  way  of 
thinking : — 

"We  should  not  think  so  much  of  what  we  do 
as  of  w^hat  we  are.  If  we  be  good  and  wise,  our 
works  also  will  be  well  and  wisely  done.  If  thou 
art  righteous,  thy  deeds  also  will  be  righteous. 
Thy  deeds  do  not  sanctify  thee,  but  thou  must 
sanctify  thy  deeds.  However  good  thy  deeds  may 
be,  if  thou  be  not  good,  thy  good  deeds  will  profit 
thee  nothing.  If  thou  be  holy,  thy  holiness  will 
sanctify  all  thy  doings,  thine  eating  and  thy 
drinking,  thy  sleeping  and  thy  waking.  Therefore 
strive  diligently  to  be  good  ;  it  matters  not  whether 
thy  deeds  be  many  or  few,  all  that  matters  is  the 
motive  from  which  they  proceed." 

Words  like  these  were  the  precursors  of  the 
Reformation,  and  they  were  spoken  in  such 
plain  German,  and  with  such  power  and  simplicity, 
that  they  could  be  understood  and  remembered. 


GERMAN  MYSTICISM  191 

And  so  much  impression  did  they  make,  that 
although  two  hundred  years  elapsed  before 
Luther's  voice  was  heard,  yet  they  were  not 
forgotten,  and  the  people  who  knew  no  better 
thought  they  were  the  words  of  Luther  himself. 

The  minnesinger,  Henry  Suso  of  Constance,  who 
sang  of  the  love  of  Jesus,  had  sat  under  Eckhart 's 
pulpit.     What  he  there  received  as  thought  he  con- 
verted into  feeling,  into  a  life  of  self-surrender  which 
was  no  less  full  of  suffering,  no  less  full  of  intense 
longmg,  than  the  life  of  Francis  of  Assisi  had  l)een, 
but  there  was  not  the  same  heroic  love  for  his 
neighbour,  nor  the  same  consecration  to  the  service 
of  humanity.     He  was  of  a  highly  nervous  tempera- 
ment which  he  inherited  from  his  mother,  whom  he 
so  deeply  venerated  that  he  renounced  his  noble 
ancestral  name  and  adopted  hers,  Suso  (Sense). 
He  fell  into  a  state  of  religious  amorousness,  the 
chief  object  of  which  was  Jesus,  but  sometimes 
he  mcluded  the  Madonna  also.     His  life  was  a 
direct  result  of  the  fanatical  system  of  self-renuncia- 
tion  introduced  by  Hildegarda  and  Mechthilda, 
and  his  meditations  were  a  deeper  acceptation  of 
the  doctrines  of  Eckhart.     At  the  age  of  eighteen 
Suso  decided  whom  he  would  serve,  and  also  saw 
clearly  that  the  walls  of  the  lusts  of  the  flesh 
which  separated  him  from  his  Beloved  had  to 
be  pulled  down  with  might  and  main.     It  was  not 
enough  to  wear  the  hair  shirt  and  the  iron  chain, 


192 


MYSTICISM 


no,  he  must  have  an  under-garment  with  pointed 
nails  driven  into  it,  and  at  night  the  nails  vied 
with  the  vermin  in  tormenting  him  and  keeping 
him  awake.  In  order  not  to  be  inhospitable 
towards  these  nocturnal  tormentors,  he  had  his 
hands  bound  to  his  sides,  or  wore  gloves  fitted 
with  brass  nails.  Day  and  night  he  bore  on  his 
bare  back  a  cross  with  protruding  iron  nails,  the 
points  of  which  ran  into  his  flesh.  For  ten  years 
he  thus  fought  to  keep  under  the  natural  man, 
until  his  body  was  one  mass  of  sores  and  wounds, 
and  he  was  utterly  emaciated  and  unnerved.  Then 
at  last  he  gave  way.  With  all  these  horrible 
penitential  exercises  Suso  wished  to  show  that 
his  devotion  to  Christ  was  absolute.  Love  must 
conquer  in  him;  his  young,  fiery  heart  could 
not  subsist  without  love.  One  day  the  thought 
came  to  him  that  he  must  make  upon  himself  a 
visible  and  lasting  sign  of  his  blessed  union  with 
Jesus.  He  seized  a  style,  and  with  it  scratched 
the  name  of  Jesus  into  the  flesh  near  to  his  heart. 
The  blood  oozed  out  of  the  deep  incisions,  and 
with  joy  he  contemplated  the  scarlet  stream  of 
love,  and  counted  the  suffering  as  naught.  Thus 
bleeding,  he  left  his  cell  and  went  into  the  chancel, 
and  kneeling  before  the  crucifix :  "  Lord,  I  pray 
Thee,"  he  said,  "  to  press  Thyself  ever  deeper  into 
my  heart,  that  Thy  holy  name  may  be  branded  in 
me  so  that  Thou  canst  never  more  depart  from  me," 


GERMAN  MYSTICISM  193 

Thus  he  made  a  sort  of  compact  with  him  to 
whom  he  had  consecrated  aU  the  love  of  his  youth 
And  this  sacrifice  of  suffering  was  not  made  in  vain. 
His  words    breathe  an   intimacy  of   love  which 
lend  them  a  persuasive  charm  greater  than  that 
of  Eckhart,  especially  where  he  speaks  his  own 
thoughts  and  not  merely  interprets  those  of  his 
master.     He  learned  by  his  own  experience,  and 
showed  m  his  own  actions  that  the  way  to  wisdom 
does  not  lie  in  philosophic  reasonings,  but  in  living 
He  believed  not  in  any  knowledge  of  God  that 
was  not  gained  by  following  after  Christ  in  his 
human  life.     And  in  this  Suso  differed  from  Eck- 
hart, as  is  evident   from  his  protesting  on  this 
very  point  against  the  -  Freethinkers."     He  will 
have  nothing  to  do  with  their  pantheistic  doctrines 
whereas   Eckhart    in   many   points   agrees   with 
them.     The  Freethinkers  even  appealed    to  the 
lector  of  Cologne  when  they  were  brought  before 
the  council,  and  in  this  appeal  they  were  justified 
It  proves  that  the  dictates  of  the  mind  may  lead 
to  anywhere,  but  not  so  the  dictates  of  the  heart 
These  latter   Suso   foUowed   in   his   self-imposed 
martyrdom,  which  to  us  appears  so  strange     To 
him   this   was   the   way   of   self-examination,   of 
provmg  the  spirits,  and  for  his  theology  the  crucible 
m  which  the  metaphysical  relation  to  God  was 
evaporated  and  only  the  personal  intimacy  re- 
mained behind.     Therefore  where  his  reasoning  is 


194 


MYSTICISM 


genuine,— and  it  is  so  in  the  "  Book  of  Wisdom,'*— 
there  is  in  this  conception  of  the  highest  a  personal 
element  and  a  positive  fulness,  which  Eckhart  never 
reached.     To  Suso's   mind  Wisdom   was   not   an 
abstract  philosophical  truth,  but  the  noble  maiden 
beloved  of  the  Jewish  sage,  "  whom  he  delighted 
in  from  his  youth,  whom  he  would  bring  home  as 
his  bride,  because  he  loved  her.     The  wisdom  which 
in  the  beginning  of  time  was  with  God  the  Creator, 
and   rejoiced    always   before   him."     Words   like 
these  from  the  Book  of  Wisdom  and  the  Proverbs 
of  Solomon  had  roused  Suso's  love  for  Wisdom. 
Wisdom  became  his  beloved,  "  the  eternal  Word 
which  is  in  the  bosom  of  the  Father,  on  whom  the 
Father's  eye  delights  to  rest  in  the  love  of  the 
Holy  Ghost."     I  am  the  seat  of  love  ;    my  eyes 
are  pure,  my  mouth  is  sweet,  and  my  form  beauti- 
ful, wonderfully  clothed  in  fine  raiment,  delicately 
decked  with  the  colours  of  living  flowers.     The 
angels  love  to  gaze  upon  me.     Blessed  is  he  who, 
led  by  my  hand,  shall  join  in  the  sweet  dehghts  of 
the  joyful  dance  in  the  kingdom  of  heaven.     One 
word  from  my  sweet  lips  is  better  than  the  song 
of  angels,  than  the  music  of  the  harp.     I  sway 
hither  and  thither  to  the  rhythm  of  the  dance 
music  ;    in  me  is  nothing  that  displeases,  in  me 
all  desire  of  heart  and  soul  is  satisfied." 

This  Greco- Jewish  genius  of  Wisdom,  with  whom 
Snso  is  in  love,  was  in  the  early  Christian  Church 


GERMAN  MYSTICISM  193 

identified  with  Christ,  and  Suso  admits  that  only 
to  the  uninitiated,  to  those  who  have  yet  to  be 
attracted  and  brought  in,  Wisdom  presents  herself 
m  this  womanly  form.     But  he  who  has  been  won 
who  IS  initiated,  knows  that  Wisdom  is  Christ   as 
Paul  said  that  he  desired  to  know  nothing  ''  hut 
Christ  and  him  crucified."     The  sufferings  of  Christ 
this   IS  true  wisdom  ;  when   one   has  personally 
experienced  what  it  is  to  be  one  with  Christ  in  his 
sufferings,  one  knows  all  that  is  worth  knowing  and 
there  is  nothing  besides  that  men  need  learn  to 
know. 

Therefore,  to  obtain  Wisdom  we  must  walk  in  the 
path  in  which  Christ  walked  :  only  by  my  sufferings 
he  said,  the  world  can  be  redeemed,  only  thus  can 
I  prove  my  love  and  soften  the  stony  hearts  of  men 
Fear  not  then  to  follow  after  me  in  my  sufferings 
To  him  in  whom  God  dwells,  suffering  is  made  easy 
But  by  suffering-and  here  is  the  point  at  which 
the  Catholic  Church  diverges-men  cannot  earn 
salvation.     Well  considered,  suffering  has  only  the 
psychological  merit  of  preparing  the  soul  for  the 
higher  life,  by  subjugating  the  flesh  and  crushing 
one's  selfwiU.     Then  follows  that  condition  which 
IS  essential,  a  condition  of  readiness  and  resignation 
m  which  man  with  entire  self-surrender  sinks  his 
own  littleness  in  the  greatness  of  the  atonement  of 
Christ.    This  is  the  salvation  from  all  times  dear  to 
mysticism,  but  now  proclaimed  to  the  world  as  the 


196 


MYSTICISM 


secret  of  Christian  life,  and  publicly  preached  as 
the  duty  and  the  right  of  the  laity,  in  clear  and 
inteUigible  words.     Suso  speaks  of  being  unclothed 
—clothed  upon— and  overclothed  :    unclothed  of 
all  creature  attributes,  clothed  upon  with  Christ, 
and  overclothed  in  the  Godhead.    "  To  become  as 
nothing  is  the  delight  of  the  truly  resigned  man  ; 
the  putting  off  of  self  is  the  putting  on  of  truth." 
And  yet  one  other  word,  which  puts  the  stamp  of 
mysticism  upon  the  whole  :  "  The  wholly  resigned 
man  sees  in  the  light  (of  grace)  the  presence  of  the 
all-pervading  Divine  Being  in  himself."  ^   This  kind 
of  language  has  saved  Suso  from  being  forgotten, 
and  has  made  him  to  this  day  a  power  both  in 
Catholic  and  Protestant  Christendom  in  Germany. 
Well  known  also  is  his  play  upon  words :  "  When 
love  is  with  love,  love  knows  not  how  loved  love  is, 
but  when  love  parts  from  love  then  love  knows  how 
loved  love  is."     Here  Suso  is  in  his  element  ;  of  the 
pain  of  love  and  the  love  of  pain  he  has  spoken 
and  sung  as  no  man  has  done  after  him,  until 
Werther  appeared  and  Heine  wrote  his  sonnets. 
His  idea  of  piety  may  be  summarised  in  the  four 
words,  intimacy,  purity,  entirety,  consummation. 
The  external  picture,  however,  which  Suso  presents 
to  our  view  places  him  at  a  greater  distance  from  us. 
We  think  of  him  as  the  martyred  cross-bearer  and 
Virgin-worshipper,  singing  his  love-songs  before  her 

1  Preger,  ii.  p.  402. 


GERMAN  MYSTICISM  197 

image,  as  does  the  ''  foolish  lover  "  under  his  lady's 
wmdow  ;  and  the  Protestant  tenor  of  his  thoughts 
IS  often  lost  sight  of  in  the  Catholic  setting  which 
colours  his  language. 

In  the  third  of  the  three  great  masters.  Dr.  John 
Tauler  (1300-61),  German  mysticism  gained  what 
It  was  m  want  of,  a  practical  man,  who,  although 
monk,  priest,  and  poet,  yet  possessed  none  of  the 
attributes  of  the  monk-professor,  like  Eckhart,  or 
the  monk  -  poet,  like  Suso.      Tauler  was  an  un- 
daunted  preacher  and   pastor,   and  experienced 
many  vicissitudes  in  consequence.    In  1324  Ludwig 
of  Bavaria  quarrelled  with  the  Pope  John  xxii. ; 
the  Emperor  deposed  the  Pope,  and  the  Pope 
deposed  the  Emperor,  excommunicated  him,  and 
put  his  lands  under  the  papal  ban.     The  respect 
for  the  papal  interdict  was  not  great  in  those  days 
and  the  Dominicans  of  Strassburg,  at  whose  college 
Tauler  was  lector,   went  on  reading  masses  for 
several  years  without  taking  any  notice  of  the  pro- 
hibition.     When  in  the  end  they  sided  with  the 
Pope,  the  Emperor  drove  them  out  of  the  city,  and 
It  appears   that   on  this    occasion    Tauler    with 
several  others  fled  to  Basel,  where  he  soon  became 
the  centre  and  mainstay  of  the  faithful  flock  and 
the  other  fugitives  who  had  taken  shelter  in  this 
city.     Afterwards  he  returned  to  Strassburg  and 
mmistered  to  the  needs  of  the  people  according 
to  his  own  light  and  conviction,  and  not  according 


198 


MYSTICISM 


to  any  clerical  or  imperial  dictate.  He  suffered 
much  for  truth's  sake,  but  these  persecutions  only 
confirmed  him  in  the  way  of  truth,  and  he  helped 
others  to  walk  in  the  same  path. 

He  found  the  truth  after  he  had  been  admitted 
into  the  Society  of  the  *'  Friends  of  God  "  at  Basel. 
It  is  told  as  a  fact— but  it  may  be  only  a  legend— 
that  a  "  Friend  of  God  "  from  the  Oberland  sud- 
denly appeared  before  Tauler,  God  having  called 
him  three  times  to  go  and  convert  to  the  true  light 
the  already  celebrated  preacher.     In  Basel  Tauler 
worked  side  by  side  with  Henry  of  Nordlingen,  and 
this  remarkable  man,  the  friend  of  all  mystics, 
gathered  friends  of  God  from  far  and  near  round 
Tauler  and  himself.     He  also  took  his  friend  into 
other  religious  circles  of  the  same  persuasion ;  for 
instance,  he  introduced  him  to  the  nun  Margaret  of 
Ebner.     In  Strassburg  Tauler  became  the  father 
confessor  of  Rulman  Mersvin,  and  pastor  to  the 
whole  Society  of  the  "  Friends  of  God,"  who  used 
to  hold  their  meetings  at  the  house  of  this  highly 
respected  citizen.     Thus  he  had  the  joy  of  minis- 
tering and  being  ministered  to,  and  he  devoted  his 
energies  to  binding  the  individual  members  of  the 
society  into  a  small  community  based  on  pure  and 
deep  convictions,  and  of  which  he  was  the  leading 

power. 

His  sermons  are  very  different  from  those  of 
either  Eckhart  or  Suso.     They  are  neither  philo- 


GERMAN  MYSTICISM  199 

sophical  expositions  nor  spiritual  effusions,   but 
merely  personal  addresses,  whether  they  contain 
fatherly  advice  or  severe  reproof.     He  preached 
with    tremendous    power.     Margaret    of    Ebner 
declared   that  his  fiery  words  had  set  the  world 
aflame.     And  his  words  must  indeed  have  been 
burning  and  scorching,  judging  from  the  manner 
m  which  he  attacked  his  contemporaries,  inveigh- 
ing against  the  wickedness  of  the  clergy  as  well  as  of 
the  laity,  and  taking  no  account  of  their  virtues. 
In  their  deeds  of  piety  he  sees  only  "  an  ostentatious 
show,"  based  on  love  of  self  and  vanity,  and  lead- 
mg    to  nowhere  ;    God  will  have  none  of  these. 
He  does  not  mince  matters,  but  stigmatises  all 
Catholic  righteousness  as  pure  Pharisaism, as  hostile 
to  true  Christianity  as  the  Pharisees  were  to  Christ. 
We  may  be  sure  that  the  Pharisees  of  Basel  and 
Strassburg,  after  listening  to  such  sentiments,  did 
not  strew  roses  on  Tauler's  path.     Nor  did  this 
bold  preacher  spare  the  monastic  state  to  which 
he  once  himself  belonged  :    "  Had  I  known  when 
I  still  was  my  father's  son,  what  now  I  know,  I 
would  have  lived  of  his  inheritance  and  not  as  a 
mendicant."     If  he  had  not  become  a  priest— he 
says  elsewhere— he  would  not  have  scorned  to  be 
a  shoemaker,  making  good  shoes.     ''  And  if  a  man 
has  wife  and  child  to  keep,  and  his  trade  is  to  make 
shoes,  and  he  be  a  God-fearing  man,  let  him  stick  to 
his  last  and  support  his  wife  and  children.    And 


200 


MYSTICISM 


if  other  poor  people  leave  the  village  to  try  and 
earn  their  living  in  a  more  exalted  field  of  labour, 
it  may  happen  that  they  who  stay  at  home  far 
infinitely  better  in  simply  following  their  calling, 
than  those  very  clever  people  who  neglect  the 
business  to  which  they  were  born.  I  know  of  one, 
a  friend  of  the  Most  High  God,  who  for  more  than 
forty  years  has  been  a  farmer,  and  still  is.  Once  he 
asked  of  the  Lord  whether  he  should  give  it  up  and 
enter  the  Church.  And  the  Lord  answered  him  : 
No,  eat  thy  bread  in  the  sweat  of  thy  brow,  and 

f  thereby  honour  me." 

His  practical  common  sense  guided  Tauler  in 
the  choice  of  the  articles  of  his  belief.  In  this  he 
was  no  inventive  genius.  He  based  his  theories 
on  Eckhart,  and  does  not  hesitate  to  borrow  freely 
from  Suso,  Mechthilda,  and  others.  But,  being  a 
practical  man,  he  had  learnt  by  experience  what  to 
treasure  and  what  to  reject.  Children,  he  says,  ask 
not  for  great  and  high  things,  be  simple-minded, 
be  content  to  learn  to  know  yourselves  in  your 
mind  and  your  nature,  and  inquire  not  into  the 
mysteries  of  God,  of  His  flowing  out  and  flowing  in, 
of  what  is  and  what  is  not,  and  of  the  spark  sinking 
into  nothingness.      For  Jesus  has  said  :   *'  It  is 

!  not  for  you  to  know  the  mysteries  of  God. ' '  There- 
fore we  must  hold  fast  to  the  true,  entire,  and 
simple  faith  that  there  is  one  God,  in  three  Persons, 
and  that  in  Him  is  no  multiplicity,  but  unity. 


GERMAN  MYSTICISM  201 

Tauler,  the  same  as  all  the  divines  of  Eckhart's 
school,    exhorts   his   hearers   to   examine   them- 
selves, to  look  into  their  souls,  -  for  in  our  soul 
we  bear  the  image  of  God,   there  God   dwells, 
there     God     delights    to     see    Himself.'*      The 
privilege  of  man  above  all  created  beings  is  that 
while  nature  can  but  reflect  the  Divine  Image,  the 
image  of  God  in  man  is  part  of  God  Himself, 'and 
man's  life  work  is  to  be  conformed  more  and 
more  to  that   image.     When  speaking  of  these 
thmgs,   Tauler  is  always  careful  not  to  let   his 
definitions  suggest  pantheism.     He  preserves  to 
the  best  of  his  ability  the  personal  character  of 
God  and  of  men.     Even  when  in  spite  of  his  own 
warning  he  indulges  in  reveries  about  the  sHence 
the  solitariness,  the   unfathomableness,  and  the 
mertness  of  God,  he  knows  but  too  well  that  as 
Father,  Le.  as  the  revealed  God,  as  a  Divine  Per- 
sonality, God  is  before  all  things,  life,  and  activity, 
and   will  ;    the  power   by  which  all   things   are 
sustained,    renewed,    and    invigorated.     And   he 
also  knows  that  man  cannot  of  himself  implant 
mto  his  soul  the  Divine  Image,  nor  conform  himself 
to  It.    He  knows  that  the  fall  of  man  stands  between 
man  and  his  better  self.     This  stands  out  as  one 
of  the  cardinal  points  in  Tauler 's  theology,  and 
also  that  this  obstacle  was  done  away  with  on 
Golgotha,  and  that  only  through  Christ  and  by 
grace   man   can   be   saved   and   become   himself 


illWii1iiiiliiinir'iiMi«ifii-iiiiiiiiiiwiM^^ 


202 


MYSTICISM 


again.  To  this  positively  Christian  doctrine 
Tauler  faithfully  adheres,  and  he  administers  it 
in  pure,  evangelical  form.  This  dogmatism  also 
leads  him  to  look  upon  life  as  a  practical  school. 
Grace  gives  us  the  will  and  the  energy  to  work, 
for  "It  is  God  who  fulfils  in  us  both  to  will  and 
to  do."  And  thus  in  newness  of  life  man  goes 
forth  in  the  strength  of  his  original  liberty,  with 
the  full  use  of  all  his  faculties.  For  "  we  are 
created  and  called  to  great  things  "  ;  therefore  we 
must  make  room  for  God  in  our  hearts,  that  we 
may  have  strength  to  perform  the  same. 

With  Tauler,  mysticism  was  turned  towards 
ordinary  human  life  ;  and  this  had  a  remarkably 
beneficial  effect,  especially  when  comparing  it 
with  the  effects  produced  by  the  mysticism  of 
his  contemporary,  Suso. 

In  other  places  also  Christian  mysticism  was 
bearing  practical  fruit,  in  the  form  of  sound 
advice  and  the  fostering  of  good,  common-sense 
ideals.  Thomas  å  Kempis,  with  his  celebrated 
book,  The  Imitation  of  Christ,  coming  about  a 
century  after  Tauler,  speaks  to  the  same  effect, 
but  in  a  gentler,  softer  voice,  without  any  of  the 
clamorous  polemics  and  the  clenched-iist  method 
of  the  reformer  Tauler.  This  edifying  work — 
after  the  Bible  the  widest-read  book  in  Christen- 
dom— originated  a  lay  mysticism  which  has 
become  the  favourite  type  in  Catholicism,  reaping 


GERMAN  MYSTICISM  203 

everywhere  the  most  beautiful  and  healthiest 
results,  and  also  finding  a  wide  entrance  in  the 
Protestant  world. 

To  live  a  life  of  inner  quietness  and  peace  ; 
listening  to  the  voice  of  God,  ever  mindful  of 
Christ's  great  meekness  in  single-hearted  purity 
and  in  the  perfect  liberty  of  perfect  resignation- 
is  what  Thomas  å  Kempis  urges  upon  Christian 
men  ;  and  who  shall  deny  the  desirability  and 
the  profitableness  of  a  Christianity  which  brings 
into  prominence  the  "four  things  which  bring 
much  peace  "  :  i.  Seek  rather  to  please  another 
than  thyself ;  2.  Desire  rather  to  have  little  than 
much;  3.  Choose  rather  the  lowest  than  the 
highest  room;  4.  Pray  always  that  God's  will 
may  be  fulfilled  in  thee  and  by  thee  ? 

Tauler's   manly   call   to    "great    things"    we 
seek  in  vain  in  Thomas  å  Kempis.     He  prefers 
to  dwell  on  the  patient  and  the  quietly  abiding 
side  of  Christian  life,  and  this  best  suits  the  de- 
mands of  Catholicism.     But  the  feeling  of   one's 
own  unworthiness  is  not  only  a  fruit  of  Christian 
morality,  it  is  also  a  fruit  of  mysticism,  the  same 
here    as    in    Persia,    where    meekness,    patience, 
moderation,  and    self-sacrifice    are    the    basis    of 
the  moral  code  of  Sufism.     We  have  seen  what 
has  been  the  fate  of  this  law  in  practical  life  in 
Persia,  how  easily  it  could  be  evaded,  and  how 
quickly  the  people  degenerated  into  doing  the 


204 


MYSTICISM 


very  opposite.  It  has  been  of  infinite  benefit 
for  Christian  mysticism  that  its  ideals  were  bound 
up  in  Christ,  and  required  the  following  in  his 
footsteps.  Thus  it  obtained  an  absolute  and 
lasting  stability  which  neither  the  egotism  nor  the 
contempt  of  men  could  belittle  or  exaggerate,  as 
has  been  the  case  with  all  mysticism  not  built  on 
this  foundation. 


X.  LUTHER'S  MYSTICISM 

In  1516  Martin  Luther  published  a  little  book,  the 
manuscript  of  which  had  accidentally  fallen  into  his 
hands.     It  had  moved  him  so  much  that  he  began 
by  making  extracts  out  of  it  for  the  edification  of 
his  friends,  and  afterwards  published  it  in  book 
form.     As  there  was  no  title  to  it,  he  called  it  the 
Theologia  Germanica,  by  which  name  it  is  still 
known.     After  two  years  a  second  edition  was 
needed,  and  the  preface  which  the  young  Witten- 
berg professor  wrote  for  the  first   edition   was 
retained  for  the  second,  although  in  the  meantime 
the  professor  had  become  a  Reformer.     The  preface 
is  to  the  following  effect  :— 

This  noble  little  book,  though  poor  in  words  of 
human  wisdom,  is  all  the  richer  and  the  more 
precious  in  its  expression  of  piety  and  godly 
wisdom.  I  glory  in  my  ignorance  that,  apart  from 
the  Bible  and  St.  Augustine,  I  have  never  come 
across  a  book  from  which  I  have  learned  so  much 
about  God,  Christ,  man,  and  all  things.  And 
though   the   learned   theologians   of   Wittenberg 

scoff  at  it,  we  will  yet  take  this  new  thing  to  heart, 

205 


2o6 


MYSTICISM 


for  nothing  like  it  has  ever  been  revealed  before, 
nay,  to  be  correct,  it  has  been  revealed  before, 
but  God,  in  his  anger  over  our  sins,  considered  us 
not  worthy  to  hear  and  to  understand  the  *'  good 
news." 

Thus  warmly,  in  the  earlier  days  of  his  spiritual 
awakening,  could  Luther  speak  of  this  book,  which 
after  all  is  only  a  simple  manual  of  devotion,  after 
the  mannner  of  late-German  mysticism.  In  those 
days  mysticism,  in  the  form  given  to  it  by  Taulcr, 
was  for  Luther  the  essence  of  theological  wisdom. 
Of  course  mysticism  in  one  form  and  another  had 
always  been  familiar  to  him,  for  he  was  a  theo- 
logian, brought  up  in  the  school  of  Scholasticism, 
and  in  the  beginning  of  his  university  career  he  even 
had  recourse  to  the  philosophy  of  the  Areopagite 
to  explain  the  meaning  of  David's  ''Praise  of  the 
silent,"  and  such-like  passages.  He  knew  as  well  as 
any  mystic  of  the  school  of  St.  Bernard  or  Thomas 
å  Kempis  that  there  is  a  knowledge  of  God  which 
can  only  be  found  in  perfect  peace  and  quietness 
of  mind,  or  as  it  were  in  a  trance  or  ecstasy.  When 
afterwards  he  came  to  condemn  this  kind  of 
mysticism,  he  could  add  his  expertus  loquor  ;  he 
could  speak  as  a  man  of  experience. 

Tauler's  mysticism,  however,  he  never  con- 
demned ;  it  had  been  his  comfort  and  strength 
during  the  time  of  his  terrible  internal  struggle, 
and  it  expressed  what  was  raging  in  his  own  bosom. 


LUTHER'S  MYSTICISM  207 

For,  in  the  case  of  Luther,  the  new  light  which  was 
revealed  by  him  was  not  the  result  of  his  own  or 
other  people's  meditations,  it  was  a  life  experience 
for  which  he  had  staked  his  own  personality.     He 
staked  all,  not  only  heart  and  soul  and  mind,  but 
also  his  life  ;   all,  that  he  might  obtain  "  the  grace 
of  God  that  bringeth  salvation."     He  carried  out 
Catholicism  into  its  furthest  consequences  in  his 
own  body.     He  would  fulfil  the  will  of  God  to  the 
last  iota.     And  so  it  happened  to  him,  as  it  happens 
m  fairy  tales  and  sometimes  in  real  life,  that  he 
who  stakes  all,  gains  the  kingdom.     The  young 
monk,  who  had  wagered  life  and  health  on  God's 
righteousness,   did  not   destroy  himself,   but   he 
destroyed  the  interpretation  of  God's  righteousness 
which  was  the  life  of  Catholicism,  and  with  which 
for  centuries  the  people  had  been  disciplined  and 
their  souls  tortured.     Suddenly  as  by  a  revelation 
he  saw  that  the  righteousness  of  God  declared  in 
the  gospel  is  not  harshness,  but  mercy,  and  that  it 
cannot  be  gained  by  penances,  but  by  faith  alone 
as  it  is  written  :  "  The  righteous  shall  live  by  faith."' 
Together  with  the  Latin  tongue,  Roman  law  had 
slipped  into  the  Church  to  interpret  God's  character 
and  man's  relation  towards  God.     How  much  had 
not  Luther  to  suffer  before  he  could  find  behind  the 
hard  cold  word  justitia  the  mercy  of  God  of  which 
the  prophets  of  Judaism  had  spoken,  and  which  was 
the  burden  of  Paul's  preaching.     Now,  looking  at 


208 


MYSTICISM 


it  from  the  Greek  point  of  view,  and  knowing  the 
Hebrew  underlying  it,  he  realised  the  meaning  of 
Rom.  i.  17,  where  it  says  that  the  righteousness 
of  God  is  revealed  in  the  Gospel.  Suddenly  this 
word,  which  formerly  had  meant  to  him  utter 
condemnation,  now  became  an  overwhelming 
blessing ;  he  realised  that  law  and  gospel  were  not 
synonymous,  but  that  by  the  "  glad  tidings  "  the 
condemnation  of  the  law  was  done  away  with. 
Can  one  blame  Luther  that  henceforth  he  clung  to 
the  words  of  the  Gospel  and  to  the  letter  of  the 
Bible,  and  by  it  tested  his  own  faith,  and  the  faith 
of  all  Christian  people,  seeing  what  a  help  they  had 
been  to  him  in  fighting  against  the  traditions, 
interpretations,  and  systems  which  had  oppressed 
and  bound  his  soul  ? 

The  new  conception  of  God,  as  the  Heavenly 
Father  of  the  Gospel,  led  at  once  toanew relationship 
to  God,  the  childlike  faith  of  the  Gospel,  the  fearless 
trust  of  the  child  in  his  Father.  The  cardinal  truth 
brought  out  in  the  Reformation,  that  faith  is  *'  con- 
fidence "  (fiducia),  had  a  twofold  development  : 
trust  in  God — not  fear  of  God  ;  trust  in  God — 
therefore  not  trust  in  self,  i.e.  not  confidence  that 
one  can  work  out  one's  own  salvation.  As  long 
as  a  man  believes  that  he  can  be  saved  by  works 
he  does  not  believe  in  God,  and  needs  neither  God 
nor  Saviour.  No,  God  desires  man  wholly,  and 
man  needs  God  wholly  ;   for  of  himself  he  can  do 


LUTHER'S  MYSTICISM 


209 

nothing.  To  live  life,  we  should  say  in  modem 
anguage  means  to  rely  implicitly  on  the  sustaining 
force  of  he.  Life  is  eternal ;  we  either  have  it  o5 
we  have  it  not.  It  is  not  a  patchwork  that  we 
can  piece  together  as  time  and  opportunity  permit 
even  If  we  gave  up  all  our  time  and  all  our  oppor- 
tunities  to  it.  ^^ 

And  Luther's  language  is  not  so  very  different 

rorn  ours.    The  equation,  fusHficatio^vrnficaHo 

Oushflcation    :s    making    alive),    expresses    that 

and  fills  the  believer,  that  is,  the  man  who  puts  his 
trust  m  God.  In  this  light  we  understand  those 
words  of  Luther's  which  have  also  been  quoted 

iLi'  'T''^  ™'™'°  psychologist,  WUIiam 
James,  m  his  Commentary  on  Galatians.  chapter 
»"■ :  God  IS  the  God  of  the  sorrowing  the 
poor,  the  miserable,  the  oppressed,  the  despairing 
the  altogether  worthless.  On  them  God  can 
exercise  His  great  natural  power,  which  is  to  exalt 

he  humble,  to  feed  the  hungry,  to  give  sight  to 

Pardon"?h  '"  "™'"'  ''^  '''''  ''"'  ^^^  '^-'y-  ^o 
pardon  the  smner,  to  raise  the  dead,  and  bring 

salvation  to  them  that  are  without  hope.    For 

fZTTTT'  ""'''''''  "^  '^"^  '"^ke  alive 
rom  the  dead,  and  call  that  which  is  not  as  though 

t  were.  Self-conceit  and  self-righteousness  are 
the  monsters  which  stand  in  the  way  of  the  accom- 
Phshment  of  this  work  of  God.    For  it  is  not  ffis 


210 


MYSTICISM 


will  that  any  should  sin  or  be  unclean  or  miserable 
or  condemned,  but  that  all  should  be  justified 
and  made  holy.  Therefore  our  Lord  God  is 
bound  to  take  up  the  strong  and  mighty  hammer  of 
the  law,  to  grind  to  powder  this  monster,  with 
all  the  things  in  which  it  trusts,  presumption, 
wisdom,  holiness,  righteousness,  and  power,  that 
these  may  all  be  as  naught,  and  man  may  learn 
at  last  through  loss  and  misfortune,  and  realise 
in  his  innermost  soul  that  he  is  really  lost  and 
condemned. 

When  a  man  has  been  thus  frightened  and 
cast  down  to  the  ground  by  the  word  of  the  law, 
then  it  is  no  easy  matter  for  him  to  stand  up  and 
to  say  :  Moses  and  his  law  has  long  enough  vexed 
and  troubled,   afflicted  and  distressed  me,   it  is 
now  time  for  grace  to  do  its  work  in  me,  and  to 
listen  to  what  the  Lord  Christ  has  to  say  to  me, 
in  whose  lips  grace   is   poured  (Ps.  xlv.  3),  and 
who  speaks  therefore  more  eloquently  than  Moses, 
who  is  slow  of  speech  and  of  a  slow  tongue  (Ex. 
iv.  10).     Now  it  is  time  for  me  to  look  not  to 
Mount  Sinai  which  burns  with  fire,  but  1 .  Mount 
Moriah,  the  city  of  the  living  God,  wherein  is  his 
Temple,  and  his  Mercy-seat,  which  is  Christ,  the 
King   of    Righteousness   and    Peace.     There   will 
I  listen  to  what  the  Lord  shall  say  unto  me  ; 
for  there  "  He  speaks  peace  to  his  people." 
•'  It  seems  hard  and  vexatious  to  us  that  a  man, 


LUTHER'S  MYSTICISM  a^ 

after  having  been  sorely  tried  in  spirit  should 
0%  have  to  turn  away  from  Moses  and'the  hw  and 
take  hold  of  Christ  by  the  word  of  grace  '  For 
man  s  heart  is  a  foolish  and  deceitful  thing.  '  After 

SThe  r '"'.  ^^'  ^"^^^^^^  ^^'  ---- 

of  Christ  T  "  "'  '"^  '^  ''''^'  ^h^  ^-^Pel 
of  Christ  wherem  is  the  free  gift  of  pardon  and 

forgiveness  of  sins.  We  rather  prefer  to  seek 
out  so„.e  further  bonds  and  restrictions  to  equalise 
matters,  and  argue  in  this  way  :    If  it  be  God's 

m  I'mrr  '':^ '  ^^^™"  ^^  ^^^^  ^  better 
life,  I  will  do  this  and  the  other,  I  will  go  into  a 

convent,  live  in  chastity,  drink  only  wate     eat 
only  bread,  go  barefooted,  and  so  on      If  T  man 
does  these  things  and  not  at  the  same  time  does 
something  else,   i.e.   throw  over  Moses  and  his 
commandments  and  leave  these  to  the  feariess 
the  hard,  and  the  stiff-necked,  and  in  his  misery 
and  distress  does  not  clutch  hold  of  the  Lord 
Christ,  who  suffered  and  was  crucified  and  died 
for  him,  then  it  is  all  up  with  his  salvation,  then 
he  IS  doomed  to  despair  and  eternal  punishm;nt  " 
with  1'  ''''"^  centripetal  words  James  refers  to 

form    h'  TV'T''  '^^^"^^  '^  -  Christian 
form  they  typify  the  kind  of  conversion  which 

he  himself  considers  the  only  really  rehgious  form 

of  I  .     Conversion   is  a  total   transformation  in 

^rs  tt  ''  ''rt  ''  ''''  ''  ^^^^^^^  (-  'or  the 
first    time    found).     The    converted    person    no 


212 


MYSTICISM 


longer  seeks  the  centre  of  gravity  of  his  life  in  his 
own  self,  but  places  it  in  the  life-giving  power  to 
whom  he  has  been  converted.  In  the  noblest 
form  of  conversion,  this  emptying  of  self  creates 
not  only  a  feeling  of  relief  and  freedom,  but  also 
of  enlargement  and  of  renewed  activity.  Con- 
version brings  gladness  and  energy  and  sympathy, 
and  the  desire  to  make  others  glad  and  to  be 
actively  employed  for  them. 

To  Luther  conversion  means  all  this,  and  it 
shows  him  wherein  lies  the  difference  between 
religion  and  morality.    Morality  as  the  way  to  enter 
into  relationship  with  God  has  lost  its  meaning, 
but  it  has  recovered  its  meaning  as  the  natural 
guide  of  human  life,  and  as  such  it  now  occupies 
its  proper  place  in  the  life  that  is  consecrated 
to  God.     Duty  is  not  a  service  we  render  to  God, 
or  a  thing  by  which  we  can  merit  anything  from 
God.     It  is  merely  the  natural  obligation  which 
the  free  man  owes  to  himself  and  to  his  neighbour, 
and  it  is  therefore  the  fulfilment  of  God's  will. 
When  a  man  once  realises  God's  fatherly  love, 
he  will  also  understand  what  brotherly  love  is. 
He  who  is  a  citizen  of  the  kingdom  of  heaven, 
also  fulfils  his  duty  as  citizen  of  the  earth.     On 
this  ground  Luther  is  unwearying  in  his  exhorta- 
tions to  activity.     Take  up  your  work  cheerfully, 
he  says  in  his  Manual  of  Morning  Devotions,  in 
whatever  sphere  of  action  your  work  may  lie, 


LUTHER'S  MYSTICISM  213 

even  if  it  be  that  of  the  maid  who  sweeps  the  room 
Do  It  with  all  your  strength  and  all  your  might 
and  let  your  heart  rejoice  that  it  is  God's  pleasure 
and  God's  intention  that  you  should  render  Him 
such  profitable  service,  instead  of  inflicting  upon 
yourself  the  profitless  hardships  of  monasticism. 
Should  not  our  heart  leap  for  joy  and  gladness 
when  going  forth  to  our  labour  or  when  doing  the 
thmgs  that  we  are  commanded  to  do  ?     Should 
we  not  say  in  our  hearts  "  surely  this  is  better 
than  all  sham  sanctity,  better  than  fasting  and 
praymg  on  our  knees  ?     For  we  have  the  sure 
witness  in  God's  Word  that  this  is  according  to 
His  will,  but  of  the  other  not  a  word  has  been 
told  us  "  (Larger  Catechism,  3,  iv.  Comm.). 

It  IS  a  grievous  mistake  (which  is  often  made) 
to  think  that  the  great  Reformer,  by  preaching 
salvation  through  faith  alone,"  called  the  people 
away  from  their  work.     Ritualistic  and  penitential 
exercises,  and  all  works  done  as  a  means  whereby 
to  secure  sanctification  and  salvation,  he  emphatic- 
ally  rejects,  but  the  performance  of  the  ordinary 
work  and  duties  of  daily  life  he  strongly  upholds 
and  mdeed  he  is  the  first,  since  apostolic  days' 
to  raise  these  again  to  their  full  value,  perhaps 
even  giving  them  a  higher  value  than  the  apostles 
ever    did,    in    their    connection    with    Christian 
life. 

Now  what  have  all  these  reflections  of  Luther 


214  MYSTICISM 

to   do  with   mysticism?     Albrecht    Ritschl   and 
his  school  say  :  very  little  indeed.     In  his  zeal  to 
represent   Luther's  theology  in  its  purest   form 
and   in   strongest    contrast   to   Catholicism— and 
perhaps  also  influenced  by  his  personal  antipathy 
to  mysticism— Ritschl   made   out   that   Luther's 
connection   with   the   mysticism   of   the    Middle 
Ages  was  of  very  slight  importance.     "  He  found 
the   gospel   quite   independently    of   mysticism," 
he  says,  "  and  it  was  only  during  the  time  previous 
to  his  classical  period  that  he  was  fully  taken  up 
with   mystical  notions."     Quite  true  !   but   it   is 
also  a  fact  that  long  after  his  first  appearance  as 
reformer,   Luther   still  felt   his  connection   with 
mysticism   very   strongly.     The   wording   of   his 
preface    (1618)    proves    this.     There    the    young 
Reformer  claims  that  the  things  for  which  he  is 
now  upbraided  are  the  very  same  things  which 
the  old  mystics  preached.     And  how  highly  he 
speaks  of  Tauler  ! 

There  is  yet  a  closer  association  between  Luther 
and  ancient  mysticism  beyond  the  mere  fact  of  his 
finding  there  the  same  chord  struck  which  vibrated 
in  his  own  bosom.  The  first  ray  of  hope  which 
fell  into  his  soul,  and  led  his  thoughts  into  another 
channel,  had  been,  as  it  were,  a  voice  from  ancient 
mystic  days.  What  might  not  have  become  of 
the  Augustinian  friar  in  his  internal  struggle,  in 
the  convent  of  Erfurt,  if  the  Provincial  of  his 


LUTHER'S  MYSTICISM  215 

Order,  John  Staupitz,  had  not  taken  him  by  the 
hand,  and  showed  him,  to  the  best  of  his  know- 
ledge, what  Christianity  was.  This  knowledge  of 
Staupitz,  however,  was  mysticism,  and  he  was 
no  mere  amateur  on  the  subj  ect .  He  was  a  learned 
and  cultured  scholar,  and  his  theological  works 
were  a  direct  continuation  of  Eckhart's  and 
Tauler's  mysticism.  Through  him  Luther  was 
drawn  into  a  kind  of  speculative  piety,  which  he 
helped  his  master  to  consolidate. 

It   cannot  be  denied  that   the  type  of    faith 
which  Luther  created  was  foreshadowed  by  the 
I'  resignation "    (gelassenheit)   of  mysticism.     For 
*'  gelassenheW    was    understood    to    mean    the 
absolute  giving  up  of  personal  motives,  the  com- 
plete   surrender    of   self   to  God's  will,  and  the 
becoming    merely   a   recipient    of   divine   grace. 
This  was  the  psychological  framework  in  which 
**  the  justification  by  faith  "  was  set ;    and  this 
is  not  a  creation  of  German  mysticism  alone,  but 
of  aU  mysticism,  as  sure  as  all  mystics,  heathen 
and  Christian  alike,  agreed  in  rejecting  the  road 
of   ''  deeds,"  be  they  ritualistic  or   moral  deeds, 
for  bringing  about   this  relationship  with   God! 
But  at  this  point  ends  Luther's  connection  with 
the  mystics ;  for  he  rejects  not  only  what  they 
rejected,  the  road  of  ''  deeds,"  but  also  that  what 
they  created,  the  road  of  '^  apprehension."    And 
even  with  regard  to  the  first,  the  rejection  of 


»••»^  t*WSvS3¥"5»Sf  »J'lwp«' 


2X6 


MYSTICISM 


"  deeds,"  he  set  to  work  far  more  earnestly  than 
the  mystics  had  done.  For  these  had  always 
kept  a  small  reserve  of  ''  deeds  "  for  use  on  the 
way  to  salvation,  namely,  "  purification,"  which 
must  take  place  before  the  heart  could  open  to 
meet  God  and  become  one  with  him  ;  the  kind 
of  purification  which  as  a  rule  implied  suffering, 
and  which  led  Suso  into  a  condition  of  asceticism 
far  more  severe  than  the  strictest  monastic  regu- 
lations would  ever  have  sanctioned. 

This  working-of-oneself-up  through  suffering 
into  a  state  of  resignation,  this  moral-pathological 
method  of  preparation,  Luther  rejected  emphatic- 
ally. The  deeds  which  God  requires  of  man 
are  something  quite  different  from  this  fighting 
to  enter  into  relationship  with  God. 

The  inner  way  created  by  mysticism  for  attain- 
ing to  this  relationship,  the  road  of  apprehension, 
of  contemplation,  Luther  scorned  as  much  as  he 
did  the  road  of  external  deeds.  His  "  confidence  " 
had  nothing  in  common  with  contemplative  re- 
ligion, and  just  as  he  exploded  the  divine  attribute 
on  which  Catholicism  lived,  i.e,  justice,  so  he  also 
shattered  the  divine  image  set  up  by  Scholasticism, 
i.e.  the  intellectual  definition  of  God,  whether 
representing  God  as  comprehensible  or  incompre- 
hensible. 

*'  Speculatively  they  define  God  by  certain 
comparisons,  as  an  existing  centre  of  a  non-existing 


LUTHER'S  MYSTICISM  217 

circle.     But  these  are  mathematical  and  physical 
problems  which  we  can  leave  to  other  professors. 
For  we  want  a  theological  definition,  that  is  to  say, 
not  a  definition  of  the  Divine  Being  which  is  incom- 
prehensible, but  a  definition  of  his  will  and  affection, 
of  what  pleases  him  and  what  does  not.     It  is  the 
interest  of  religion  to  have  a  God  on  whose  help 
we  may  rely  in  time  of  trouble,  and  who  will 
further  us  in  all  that  is  good.     We  cannot  know  the 
least  thing  of  ourselves,  yet  in  the  devil's  name  we 
try  to  climb  up  and  with  our  intellect  to  grasp  God 
in  his  Majesty,  and  to  speculate  upon  what  he  is 
.  .  .  Turk  and  Jew  and  Pope  all  say  :   I  believe 
in  God,  the  Creator  of  heaven  and  earth,  and  they 
all  seek  by  a  different  way  to  find  God  in  heaven, 
and  find  Him  not,f  or  He  will  not  be  found  except 
in  Christ."! 

Arguing  in  this  manner,  not  much  remains 
of  the  imaginary  God  and  the  imaginary  rela- 
tionship to  God,  which  has  been  the  life  of 
mysticism;  still  less  of  the  unconscious  God 
and  the  unconscious  relationship  towards  God,  the 
pagan-mystical  origin  of  which  is  easily  recognised. 
Together  with  intelligence  and  ecstasy,  asceticism 
also  vanishes,  that  last  remnant  of  the  mystic 
inheritance  cherished  by  the  mystics  of  aU  ages. 
All  that  remains  is  the  inner  life  in  God  and  the 

^  Schultz,  "Luther's  Dogmatische  Aussagen  uber  Gott" 
{Zettschrtft  fur  Kirchengeschichte,  p.  79  and  foU.     1 88 1). 


2l8 


MYSTICISM 


inner  way  to  God,  those  deep  things  of  life  which 
have  always  been  the  final  goal  of  all  mysticism. 
Both  these  Luther  saw  revealed  in  Christ :  He  is 
the  image  of  the  Father,  and  He  is  the  way.  And 
therewith  he  set  aside  mysticism,  for  God  is  a 
Personality,  and  the  way  to  Him  is  by  a  Person. 
Beyond  this  we  know  nothing  of  God,  and  by  no 
other  way  can  we  go  to  Him. 

With  this,  mvsticism  has  found  its  accomplish- 
ment,  for  it  has  attained  what  it  sought :   an  ex- 
pression for  the  essence  of  God  coinciding  with 
divine  life  and  the  exclusive  object  of  all  life.     And 
so  there  is  no  further  need  for  mysticism,  for  the 
definition  of  God's  being,  and  the  union  between 
God  and  man  for  which  mysticism  laboured,  and 
for  which  it  longed  with  all  the  passion  and  pain  of 
human  intelligence,  has  been  accomplished  in  the 
direct  confidence  in  which  man  now  may  approach 
the  Author  and  Finisher  of  his  faith.  This  is  the  only 
unio  mystica,  which  we  can  know  and  live.     In  its 
original,  ix,  in  its  pagan  form,  mystical  union  is  a 
process  of  dissolution  in  which  finally  the  work  of 
God  and  of   man  is   swallowed   up,  as    may  be 
abundantly  proved  from  the  history  of  heathen 
mystics.     Christian  mysticism  has  not  led  to  this 
dissolution,  because  it  had  undertaken  the  great 
and  arduous  task  of  converting  the  heathen  in- 
heritance into  personal  property.     In  this  none 
have  succeeded  so  well  as  Luther.     He  practically 


LUTHER'S  MYSTICISM  219 

settled  the  momentous  question,  and  in  his 
maturer  days  he  studied  the  mystics,  not  because 
their  writings  breathed  the  traditional  mysticism, 
but  because  they  contained  the  germ  which  was  to 
cause  it  to  explode. 


QUIETISTIC  MYSTICISM 


221 


XI.  QUIETISTIC  MYSTICISM 

Thus  in  one  corner  of  the  world  at  any  rate 
people's  minds  were  at  rest,  and  their  thoughts, 
no  longer  strained  to  the  farthest  possible  stretch 
of  human  capability,  could  now  with  the  greater 
confidence  and  cheerfulness  turn  themselves  to  the 
more  natural  duties  of  everyday  life.  The  calm 
after  the  storm  had  a  beneficial  effect  on  Lutheran- 
ism,  but  its  evil  results  were  there  also.  In  their 
satisfaction  that  the  great  question  of  salvation 
was  now  finally  settled,  people  took  their  ease  and 
became  deaf  and  practically  dead  to  those  higher 
impulses  which  originally  had  set  the  problem  in 
motion.  The  psychical  fermentation,  the  mental 
strain,  the  fervour,  characteristics  of  mystically 
tuned  natures,  were  in  Lutheranism  supplanted 
by  sound,  practical,  common-sense  doctrines,  so 
that  even  the  intensity  and  poetic  tendencies  of 
Luther's  early  effusions — mementoes  of  his  own 
mental  struggle — became  rare  and  unusual  guests 
in  his  Church.  And  where  they  did  perchance 
appear  they  never  throve. 
The  dreamer  and  poet,  John  Scheffler,  once  a 


230 


noted  Imperial  Court  physician,  but  better  known 
under  his  assumed  name  of  Angelus  Silesius,  had 
to  experience  how  little  room  there  was  for  a  mystic 
in  the  Lutheranism  of  the  seventeenth  century. 
He  broke  with  the  Lutherans  and  was  easily  re- 
captured by  the  Catholics.  They  showed  much 
tolerance  for  a  son  who  in  striking  epigrams  could 
express  pregnant  truths,  like  the  following  :■— 

"I  know  that  without  me  God  could  not  be, 
Were  I  extinct,  He  would  be  non-existing  also." 

and  again  : — 

"  I  am  as  great  as  God,  He  is  as  small  as  I  am, 
He  is  not  above  me,  nor  I  below  Him. 
God's  son  am  I,  I  sit  at  His  right  hand. 
His  spirit,  His  flesh,  His  blood  I  partake  of." 

Such  experimental  effusions  Catholicism,  when 
in  a  kindly  mood,  could  allow  to  pass  as  the  innocent 
pastime  of  a  Court  physician,  but  not  so  Pro- 
testantism. For  in  the  Protestant  religion  such 
sentiments  would  have  to  be  made  into  a  dogma, 
and  as  such  they  would  be  a  direct  contradiction 
of  the  Creed. 

For  the  same  reason  they  could  not  leave  in 
peace  that  good  cobbler  who  indulged  in  visions, 
and  who,  bending  over  his  task,  meditated  upon  the 
origin  of  God  and  upon  the  condition  of  man  before 
the  Fall.  Fortunately  for  himself  this  dreamer, 
Master  Jacob  Boehme,  was  able  to  prove  to  the 
satisfaction  of  the  clerical  gentlemen  at  Dresden 


S:^iafc.....aifei&:^,,fi.g||l|.,g|,|l^  f 


222 


MYSTICISM 


that  his  doctrines  were  not  contrary  to  orthodox 
religion.  In  fact,  he  rather  surpassed  the  Church 
in  abstruse  combinations,  and  fenced  with  Trinity 
and  Incarnation  as  skilfully  as  any  speculative 
theologian.  He  wanted  to  give  his  ideas  a 
realistic  character,  and  resorted  to  natural  pan- 
theism, which  became  both  his  strength  and  his 
weakness,  and  has  always  remained  a  peculiar 
feature  of  his  teachings. 

It  seems  strange  that  there  should  be  resusci- 
tated in  the  brain  of  this  simple  shoemaker  a  way 
of  thinking  which  had  been  dead  for  a  thousand 
years  ;  a  way  of  thinking  which  had  flourished  in 
the  days  of  the  Gnostics  and  the  Neo-Platonic 
School ;  the  idea  that  nature  is  contained  in  God, 
and  consequently  that  human  nature  is  filled  with 
God.  In  this  kind  of  speculative  argumentation 
Master  Jacob  was  quite  as  much  at  home  as  any 
Dionysius,  and  he  inspired  the  philosophers  and 
theologians  of  Romanticism  again  with  it.  They 
found  in  him  the  pantheism  and  the  poetry  which 
they  required:  "As  a  man's  spirit  rules  his  body 
and  all  its  motions,  in  fact  fills  the  whole  man,  so 
the  Holy  Ghost  fills  all  nature.  He  is  the  heart  of 
nature,  and  governs  the  good  qualities  in  all 
things."  "  Man  is  made  out  of  nature,  out  of  the 
stars  and  the  elements  ;  but  God  the  Creator  is  in 
them  all,  as  the  sap  is  in  the  tree."  There  is  a 
thoroughly  pagan  sound  in  all  this,  and  even  when 


QUIETISTIC  MYSTICISM  223 

Boehme  speaks  of  the  Father  as  the  fountain- 
spring  of  all  force,  and  of  all  forces  fitting  into 
one  another  and  being  as  one  force,  it  remains 
doubtful  whether  these  sentiments  can  pass  for 
sound  Christianity.  Boehme's  mysticism  was  an 
unmistakable  falling  back  into  natural  mysticism, 
even  where  he  speaks  from  personal  experience : 
*'  How  near  to  us  is  God  in  nature  !  "  and  when  he 
gives  up  his  will  to  God,  he  does  it  that  God  may 
illumine  him  even  as  the  sun  illumines  the  world. 

This  plantlike  receptiveness  is  the  characteristic 
feature  of  Boehme's  piety.  When  he  describes  the 
intercourse  of  the  children  of  God  with  one  another, 
his  definition  does  not  rise  above  that  of  the  hfe  of 
flowers.  "  Like  as  the  various  flowers  stand  in  the 
ground  and  grow  side  by  side,  not  upbraiding  one 
another  about  colour,  scent,  or  taste,  but  letting 
earth  and  sun,  rain  and  wind,  heat  and  cold,  do 
what  they  hke  with  them,  all  simply  growing,  each 
according  to  his  own  disposition— so  it  is  also  with 
the  children  of  God." 

In  mystical  effusions  of  this  kind  it  is  diflicult 
to  tell  whether  it  is  the  Chinese  Laotse,  the  Persian 
Saadi,  or  Hafiz,  or  a  Christian  who  speaks,  nor  can 
we  trace  in  it  any  development  of  Luther's  view^s 
on  the  subject  of  natural  mysticism.  What  would 
have  been  Luther's  opinion  of  Boehme's  Aurora, 
one  wonders?  Probably  he  would  have  said 
that  this  time  "  Die  Frau  Hulda  "—as  he  often 


224 


MYSTICISM 


calls  Naturalism— had  put  on  the  cloak  of  Christi- 
anity to  delude  a  simple  cobbler  into  seeking  God 
where  only  nature  is  to  be  found. 

In  the  Cathohc  Church  mysticism  met  with  a 
better  fate.  Never  had  Christian  mysticism  entered 
more  deeply  into  the  human  soul,  never  had  its 
hold  upon  the  people  been  so  strong,  never  had 
its  impression  upon  culture  been  deeper  than 
in  the  mysticism  of  the  Catholic  Church  in  the 
sixteenth  and  seventeenth  centuries,  and  it  soon 
found  its  way  back  again  into  Protestantism  also. 
It  spread  with  infectious  rapidity,  overstepped 
the  boundaries,  found  an  entrance  into  the  Re- 
formed party,  and  finally  penetrated  the  stronghold 
of  Lutheranism.  The  religion  of  the  seventeenth 
century,  expressing  itself  in  external  rule  and 
internal  enthusiasm,  is  permeated  with  mysticism, 
and  the  innovations  introduced  in  the  Eastern  and 
Western  Churches  are  all  tainted  with  it.  There- 
fore not  only  the  internal  histories  of  Spain, 
Italy,  and  France,  but  also  the  histories  of 
the  Protestant  movements.  Pietists,  Moravian 
Brethren,  and  Quakers,  form  a  link  in  the  history 
of  mysticism. 

The  mysticism  of  those  days  does  not  yield  much 
fruit  for  the  philosophic  mind.  It  does  not  in- 
quire into  the  nature  of  God  or  of  the  Word,  but 
is  rather  a  practical  form  of  piety,  putting  new 
life  into  the  Catholic  faith,  and  strengthening  it 


QUIETISTIC  MYSTICISM  225 

for  the  impending  battle  with  Protestantism. 
What  gave  colouring  to  that  period  were  the 
political  experiences  which  mysticism  passed 
through  during  the  time  of  the  anti-Reform  move- 
ment. Yet  it  bore  fruit  of  a  quieter  nature  also, 
for  at  that  time  was  born  that  peculiar  kind  of 
psychical  apprehension,  which  was  the  outcome 
of  deep  self-examination. 

And  this  quiet,  introspective  form  of  piety  might 
well  bear  abundant  fruit,  for  it  was  hatched  in  the 
hothouse  of  the  convent.     "  Go  into  thy  closet,  and 
close  the  door,"  this  was  and  became  more  and  more 
the  Catholic  way  of  approaching  God,  and  it  also 
produced    a    hitherto    unknown    depth  of  soul. 
For  the  life  lived  behind  the  convent  walls  was 
so  intense  and  so  intimate  that  all  the  church 
offered  to  the  outside  world  was  either  ignored 
or  lightly  esteemed  by  the  initiated.    The  pity 
was  that  no  one  conceived  the  idea  of  posting 
up  outside  the  door  of  the  church  what  thoughts 
were  maturing  within  the  convent   waUs.     No 
one    ventured    to    propose    the    abolishment    of 
certain   dogmas   and   ceremonials,    although    all 
knew  that  the  external  apparatus  could  quite 
well  be  dispensed  with.     But  the  revolutionary 
powers,    sUently    fostered    by    mysticism,    never 
became  really  strong  enough  to  explode  into  a 
reformation.    They  were  held  close  in  the  grip 
of  the  church,  just  as  in  the  human  body  disease 
15 


i 


lifiliirmlMtojMjiMiOigi 


(1 


226 


MYSTICISM 


is  kept  under  control  until  it  revolts  and  kills  the 
body. 

Agitation  was  not  the  object  in  view,  it  was 
rest  that  was  wanted  before   all   things.     *'  And 
thou  shall  find  rest  for  thy  soul "  was  the  second 
maxim  in  the  evangel  of  mysticism.     Therefore 
it  was  known  as  Quietistic.     For  this  reason  also 
it  appealed  to  the  individual,  but  had  nothing 
to  offer  to  assemblies.     Its  solace  and  its  wisdom 
was  communicated  from  soul  to  soul,  but  it  did 
not  teach  men  how  to  be  useful  to  their  fellow-men. 
Selfishness  runs  to  seed  in  the  garden  of  con- 
templation, and  because  mysticism  is  naturally   0 
egotistical,  always   fixing  the  attention  on  self  ^ 
even  where  it  seeks  self-effacement,  it  can  never     # 
lead  to  any  lasting  good. 

And  yet — who  would  accuse  of  egotism  that 
splendid,  self-sacrificing,  lovable  woman  to  whose 
life  and  meditations  the  mystic  productions  of 
two  centuries  may  be  traced  back  ?  Santa  Teresa 
de  Jesu  is  not  only  the  greatest  saint  of  Spain, 
but  the  greatest  saint  of  mysticism  in  general. 
Katharine  of  Siena,  with  whom  she  vies  for  the 
pre-eminence  among  the  female  coryphees  of  the 
Catholic  church,  possibly  surpasses  Teresa  in 
strength  of  character  and  in  charity,  as  also  in 
historical  importance  for  the  ecclesiastical  life 
of  her  generation.  On  the  whole,  she  ought 
perhaps  to  be  regarded  as  the  greater  of  the  two, 


QUIETISTIC  MYSTICISM  227 

but  in  profundity  of  soul  she  cannot  be  compared 
with  Teresa.     In  the  latter,  mysticism  was  not 
only  motive  power,  but  personal  intuition.     In 
her  power  of  perception  lies  Teresa's  superiority. 
She  is  not  satisfied,  like  the  German  nuns,  to  inter- 
pret in  emotion  what  the  men  of  their  time  created 
in  thought.     No,  the  thoughts  thought  by  men 
obtain  perspective  and  vitality  by  passing  through 
this  woman's  brain.     She  speaks  much  about  the 
watering  of  the  garden ;   she  herself  abundantly 
watered  the  garden  of  mysticism.     All  that  was 
dry  and  wooden  in  the  systems  of  men  becomes 
fresh  and  verdant  under  her  influence.     One  of 
the  books  from  which  she  drew  her  knowledge 
bore  the  significant  title  of  Ahcdarium  tertium 
(Francis  of  Osuna  was  the  writer).     What  Teresa 
wrote,  however,  was  not  an  A  B  C,  but  one  of  the 
maturest  and  richest  works  of  the  time.     She  set 
at  liberty  the  thoughts  wrapped  up  in  scholastic 
coverings    and    fettered    by  Latin    phraseology. 
She  spoke  the  language  of  individuality  in  good 
Spanish ;    she  wrote  the  best  prose  of  the  day, 
and  her  Spanish  is  still  looked  upon  as  classical. 

St.  Teresa  is  often  depicted  as  a  hectic  enthusiast 
in  supersensuous-sensuous  ecstasy.  Her  histori- 
cal portrait,  however,  which  is  in  the  possession 
of  the  Carmelite  nuns  at  Valladolid,  shows  her 
as  an  energetic  woman.  The  fuU,  quiet,  large- 
featured  face,  enframed  in  the  nun's  hood,  reveals 


228 


MYSTICISM 


noble  descent  and  beauty.  The  weary  eyelids 
and  somewhat  flabby  cheeks  speak  of  the  glowing 
ashes  of  the  convent  life.  The  mouth,  however, 
is  still  fresh  and  firm,  expressive  of  great  power 
of  will  and  warm  feeling. 

She  was  of  noble  Old-Castilian  birth,  accustomed 
from  her  infancy  to  be  honoured  and  obeyed. 
She  divided  her  enthusiastic  devotion  between 
the  Virgin  and  the  romances  of  chivalry.  The 
knights  of  romance  took  form  in  the  person  of 
her  cousin,  but  her  father  interfered,  and  she  was 
sent  to  a  convent.  It  was  much  later,  after  her 
recovery  from  a  serious  illness,  that  she  resolved 
to  take  the  veil,  and,  in  opposition  to  her  father's 
will,  she  carried  out  her  resolution.  Her  confessor, 
Vicentius  Varenius,  a  Dominican  mystic,  led  her 
step  by  step  into  the  mysteries  of  mysticism,  by 
giving  her  to  read  such  books  as  Osuna's  A  hcdarium, 
and  a  "  Tract  on  Prayer  and  Meditation  "  by  the 
excellent  Spanish  mystic  writer,  Peter  of  Alcantara, 
She  studied  these  until  her  soul  was  ablaze  with 
holy  fire,  and  in  a  vision  she  saw  herself  as  the 
betrothed  of  Christ.  Shortly  after  this  experience 
she  became  personally  acquainted  with  Alcantara, 
and  made  him  her  father-confessor. 

At  this  time  she  was  also  fighting  for  stricter 
conventual  discipline  among  the  nuns.  Her  desire 
was  to  establish  a  more  austere  Order,  which  she 
eventually    accomplished,    and    with    her    bare- 


QUIETISTIC  MYSTICISM    '        229 

footed  companions  she  shamed  the  noble  daintily, 
shoed,  luxurious  Carmelite  ladies,  who,  however, 
had  their  revenge. 

She  was  expelled  and  persecuted,  until  finally 
Phihp  ii.^in  his  relation  to  her  a  tolerant  and 
beneficent    man-came    to    her    assistance,    and 
obtamed  for  her  the  papal  sanction  for  the  re- 
organisation of  her  Order  as  a  distinct  association 
From  her  convent  cell,  where  she  enjoyed  rest 
and  peace  of  mind  and  gave  herself  up  more  and 
more  to  ascetic  exercises,  she  watched  with  keen 
mterest  the  events  of  the  outer  world.     Her  lot 
was  cast  in  the  palmy  days  of  Spain.     In  thought 
she  followed  her  brothers  on  their  perilous  expedi- 
tions to  the  New  World,  and  in  their  campaigns 
agamst  the  enemies  of  Spain.     Her  letters  abound 
m  mtelligent  remarks  and  sound  advice.    She  is 
a   practical   administrator,    and   she   admonishes 
her  younger  relatives,  not  only  to  lead  honourable 
lives,  but  also  to  take  a  practical  hold  of  life  and 
to  mvest  their  money  wisely.  Teresa  was  influenced 
by  the  indomitable  will-power  which  at  that  time 
prevailed   in   Spain.     Everywhere,  in  state   and 
army,  m  civil  and  ecclesiastical  life,  an  energy  and 
purpose  of  will  were  seen,  very  similar  to  what 
we  now  see  in  Prussia.     Ignatius  de  Loyola,  the 
founder  of  the  Jesuit  Order,  built  his  institution 
on  this  will-power ;   Teresa,  his  junior  by  twenty 
years  (she  lived  from  1515-82),  made  it  into  a 


I 


230 


MYSTICISM 


philosophy  which,  like  Loyola's  system,  has  pre- 
served its  power  till  now,  or,  perhaps  more  correctly, 
she  founded  her  mysticism  on  a  psychology  which 
had  the  will  for  its  centre. 

There  is'among  the  fortifications  of  this  world 
an  '* inner  castle"  {el  castillo  interior),  the  human 
soul,  a  stronghold  of  purest  crystal.  This  strong- 
hold has  seven  chambers,  and  the  first  we  come  to 
is  the  chamber  of  apprehension  ;  this  is  the  outer 
court  of  the  soul.  Behind  it  is  the  chamber  of  the 
passions,  and  this  is  full  of  turmoil  and  strife.  The 
third  is  the  chamber  of  the  fear  of  God  ;  here  the 
passions  are  overcome.  After  that  comes  the 
chamber  of  rest,  then  that  of  union,  and  finally 
the  closet  of  rapture.  The  innermost  room  in  the 
very  centre  of  the  stronghold  of  the  soul  is  the 
secret  chamber  where  the  mystical  espousals  with 
the  Triune  God  take  place. 

Of  all  the  gardens  of  the  earth  there  is  one  which 
man  has  to  tend  and  water  constantly  :  this  is  the 
garden  of  the  soul.  At  first  one  must  draw  the 
water  with  one's  own  hands  from  the  fountain 
of  spiritual  life  :  this  is  done  by  the  prayer  of 
observation.  Looking  into  self  we  behold  our 
sinfulness ;  looking  outside  of  self  we  behold 
Christ's  sufferings.  But  he  who  would  improve 
his  garden  cannot  rest  satisfied  with  drawing  the 
water  from  the  main  spring  with  his  own  hands. 
He  makes  channels  to  convey  it,  so  that  it  may 


QUIETISTIC  MYSTICISM  231 

freely  flow  over  and  overflow  the  beds  and  borders 
of  the  soul's  pleasure-ground.     This  is  represented 
by   the   prayer   of  collected  thought   or   quietness 
(oracion  de  quietud).    The  mind  is  no  longer  pre- 
occupied, for  the  human  will  is  completely  merged 
into  the  divine  will,  has  become  one  with  it.     The 
external  powers  of  the  soul,  however,  are  stiU 
active :  reason  and  imagination  are  stiU  exposed  to 
the  influence  of  the  outer  world,  but  the  internal 
peace  of  mind  continues,  even  when  outwardly  our 
thoughts  are  engaged  in  intellectual  work  (prayers, 
literary  occupations,  and  such  like) .   When  the  soul 
has  been  raised  to  join  in  the  prayer  of  union,  then 
we  leave  all  human  toil  and  labour  behind.     Then 
God  Himself  waters  the  garden  of  our  hearts  ;  then 
the  water  rises  and  flows  through  innumerable 
channels,  and  not  a  spot  remains  dry.     Thus  not 
only  the  will  but  the  intellect  also  is  made  one  with 
God,  and  only  memory  and  imagination  are  still 
free.     The  higher  functions  of  the  soul  are  gently 
slumbering  on  the  bosom  of  Divine  love,  and  only 
m  a  certain  kind  of  mental  activity,  in  wandering 
thoughts  and   devotional   exercises,   man's  indi- 
viduality asserts  itself. 

But  this  last  function  stops  also  in  the  prayer  of 
ecstasy  {oracion  del  arrohamiento) ,  for  therein  all 
the  powers  of  the  soul  are  enchained  ;  the  soul  is 
altogether  passive,  paralysed  in  ecstatic  delight. 
Now  the  garden  of  the  soul  is  not  merely  watered. 


ytoHfettMa^Cig^^M 


232 


MYSTICISM 


but  suddenly  drenched  by  showers  of  Divine  Grace, 
and  the  soul  thus  strengthened  in  its  innermost 
parts  reaches  its  highest  possible  flight.  The  body 
also  is  uplifted  for  a  few  short  moments  of  super- 
lative bliss,  for  no  longer  than  half  an  hour  this 
rapturous  condition  can  last.  Bathed  in  tears  one 
wakes  up  from  this  trance.  A  gentle  languor 
continues  for  some  time,  the  kind  of  languor 
which  we  notice  on  Teresa's  face  in  her  picture. 

The  recognition  of  the  inner  life  of  the  soul,  as 
described  here,  is  a  forerunner  of  modern  psycho- 
logy. Teresa  has  a  masterly  way  of  keeping 
separate  the  various  actions  of  the  soul,  and  of 
observing  their  effects  in  the  various  orisons.  This 
same  self-examination  underlies  the  Confes- 
sions of  Augustine,  but  Teresa  carries  and 
develops  it  further.  Teresa's  autobiography  is 
one  of  the  chief  authorities  upon  which  religious 
sentiment  is  based,  and  her  self-analysis  is  well  on 
the  way  to  becoming  actual  psychology.  The  fact 
that  all  the  other  functions  of  the  soul  are  sub- 
servient to  the  will  is  not  her  own  discovery,  for 
this  kind  of  contemplative  religion  was  founded 
by  Duns  Scotus  (see  p.  164).  But  the  becoming 
one  with  God  through  the  will,  which  for  him  was 
still  scholastic  school-wisdom,  is  for  Teresa  the 
one  all-absorbing  ideal.  She  interprets  love  by 
wiU,  **  An  arrow  shot  by  the  will."  To  become 
one  with  God  in  love  means  to  her  to  be  one  with 


QUIETISTIC  MYSTICISM  233 

God  in  will,  that  is,  to  let  God's  wiU  implicitly 
govern  the  human  wiU.  And  with  this  theory 
mysticism  has  become  eminently  practical ;  the 
old  method  of  apprehending  God  is  thrown  over- 
board ;  Teresa  wUl  have  none  of  the  learned 
theology  of  Scholasticism.  In  her  womanly  wisdom 
she  opposes  this  enemy  as  resolutely  as  does 
i-uther  m  his  manly  intelligence. 

This  psychological  investigation  leads  to  yet 
further    results.    The    constant    dissecting    and 
scrutmising  of  the   impulses  of  the  heart,  the 
lookmg  beyond  and  the  discarding  of  the  visible 
functions  of  the  soul,  not  only  made  theological 
knowledge  superfluous,  but  practicaUy  did  away 
with  the  necessity  for  any  visible  expression  of 
piety  and  religious  observances.    All  this  is  very 
necessary  for  children,  and  perhaps  for  the  laity  in 
general,  but  they  who  are  truly  initiated  know 
that  there  is  only  one  way  in  which  we  can  enter 
mto  profitable  relationship  with  God,  and  that  is 
by    prayer.     Not    the    prayer    with    rosary    and 
formulas,  and  set,  audible  words,  but  the  prayer 
that  IS  prayed  in  silence  ;  the  prayer  of  contempla- 
tion, of  concentration,  of  union,  of  ecstatic  rapture 
as  set  forth  in  the  ascending  scale.     It  is  the 
sublimest  form  of  prayer,  for  it  is  not  supplication 
or   entreaty   for  any   worldly  goods,   scarcely  a 
prayer  for  internal  joy  and  happiness,  which  used 
to  be  the  object   of  prayer.     It  is  a  spiritual 


234 


MYSTICISM 


condition  in  which  one  would  abide,  a  state  of 
contemplation,  a  hovering  in  spirit  over  the  deep 
things  of  the  soul,  and  a  beholding  and  recognising 
of  the  image  of  God  which  is  hidden  in  these 
innermost  recesses.    The  beat  of  the  wings  which 
carry  the  soul  to  this  highest  flight  of  contempla- 
tive ecstasy,  and  the  soul's  labour  which  prepares 
the  way  for  this  contemplation,  is  called  meditation. 
"  Meditation   labours  and   sows  ;    contemplation 
reaps    and   rests."     For   more   than   a   hundred 
years  this  scrutinising  of  one's  own  soul  was  the 
highest  ambition  of  pious  folk  ;  they  sacrificed  all 
else  to  it,  and  doubtless  much  strength  of  soul  was 
thus  gained.    First  of  all,  it  made  them  deserv- 
ing in  their  own  eyes,  and  by  and  by  also  in  other 
people's  eyes,  until  this  sort  of  piety  became  the 
fashion,  and  ended  injhypocrisy  and  dissimulation. 
And  that  was  a  pity,  for  the  original  idea  was 
good.    Teresa's  thoughts,  in  the  simple  form  given 
to  them  by  her  friend,  Juan  de  la  Cruz,  are  almost 
Protestant  ;  it  is  as  if  all  the  pagan  elements  had 
been  eliminated,  and  nothing  but  pure  Christianity 
was  left.     Union  with  God  did  not  mean  union  in 
a  pantheistic  sense,  but  rather  a  transformation 
of  the  soul  through  love,  leading  up  to  a  condition 
of  perfect  acquiescence  to  the  will  of  God.     The 
preparation  for  this  union  lies  not  in  understanding, 
testing,  proving  or  speculating  on  the  essence  of 
God's  being,  but  in  purity  of  mind  and  in  love. 


QUIETISTIC  MYSTICISM  235 

Asceticism  is  only  practised  in  a  spiritual  sense, 
m  suppressing  the  natural  gift  of  inquiry,  and 
admitting  into  the  soul  nothing  but  unquestioning 
faith.     The  mind  is  exclusively  engaged  in  con- 
templating the  life,  the  passion  and   the  death 
of  Jesus.     All  else  is  as  non-existing.     By  this 
complete  surrender  of  the  will  and  of  all  moral  and 
spiritual  joys  and   aspirations,  the  soul  receives 
salvation;   nothing— not   even  the  most   special 
gift  of  grace— is  counted  of  any  value.     And  the 
person  whose  soul  has  thus  been  liberated  is  also 
exempt  from  all  religious  practices,  from  image- 
worship    and    pilgrimages    and    churchgoing— aU 
which  apparatus  is  only  intended  for  beginners. 
Even  the  worship  of  saints  shrivels  into  nothing. 

The  thoughts  of  these  mystics,  considered  merely 
as  theories,  are  right,  and  expressive  of  progress 
and  reformatory  energy,  but  when  we  look  at 
their   lives    the  picture    presents  an   altogether 
different    aspect.     The    aim    of    mysticism-and 
before  which  everything  has  to  give  way-is  and 
always  has  been  quiescence  and  emptiness  of  soul, 
darkened  consciousness,   and   the  suspension  of 
natural  understanding.     All  this  eventually  ends 
in  conventual  practices  and  the  technics  of  the 
confessional,  which  two  things  are  supposed  to 
bring   peace.     Even   where   faith   is    defined   as 
will,  although  superior  as  a  theory,  it  only  sinks 
the  soul  all  the  more  easily  into  a  state  of  quies- 


236 


MYSTICISM 


cence,  because  the  will  is  not  exerted.  Therefore 
Duns  Scotus,  the  originator  of  the  doctrine  of 
the  will,  is  also  practically  the  founder  of  Quietism ; 
the  man  who  scientifically  investigated  the  Augus- 
tinian  doctrine  for  the  repose  of  the  son)— donee 
requiescat  in  te. 

And  this  indiscriminate  repose  of  the  soul  was 
greatly  encouraged  by  the  ruling  forces  of  the 
age,  namely,  Absolutism  and  Jesuitism,  of  which 
Quietism  is  the  religious  counterpart.  The  evangel 
of  passivity,  the  doctrine  of  perfect  indifference, 
fitted  admirably  into  the  scheme  of  the  authorities. 
But  the  power  thus  evoked  concealed  more  than 
its  promotors  suspected.  During  one  historical 
moment  the  existence  of  the  Catholic  Church, 
as  it  then  was,  hung  in  the  balance,  and  if  the 
threatened  catastrophe  had  taken  place,  the 
Church  would  probably  never  have  attained  its 
present  form  ;  but  Jesuitism  was  on  the  watch, 
and,  making  use  of  the  bigotry  of  an  all-powerful 
court,  warded  off  the  fatal  step. 

We  refer  to  the  drama  enacted  in  Italy  during 
the  reign  of  Louis  xiv.  of  France,  and  in  which 
the  Spaniard  Michael  de  Molinos  was  the  chief 
actor.  He  visited  Rome  in  1670.  A  young 
doctor  of  divinity  of  noble  birth,  rich  and  independ- 
ent, shrewd  and  clever,  of  pleasing  manners  and 
appearance,  he  soon  gained  access  into  the  best 
circles  of  the  papal  city.     Even  the  heads  of  the 


QUIETISTIC  MYSTICISM  237 

Jesuit  party  and  the  highest  dignitaries  of  the 
Church  honoured  him  with  their  confidence  and 
accepted    his    spiritual    advice.     Molinos*    Guida 
spmtuale  (1673),  a  little  book  of  some  two  hundred 
pages,  gives  us  a  very  fair  idea  of  the  kind  of  piety 
he  introduced  in  Rome  ;  it  was  downright  Spanish 
mysticism,    arguments    taken    from    St.    Teresa 
and  Juan  de  la  Cruz,  cooked  up  by  a  brHliantly 
talented  man  at  a  propitious  moment,  and  offered 
m   delectable   form;     fascinating   sometimes   by 
Its  lucidity,  sometimes  by  its  witty  paradoxes 
His  ddicately  traced  psychological  theories  were 
formulated  by  the  spiritual  heads  of  the  Church 
mto  a  new  method  of  confession  which  gave  an 
entirely  new  character  to  the  cure  of  souls  and 
the  way  of  salvation.     "  Wouldst  thou  that  the 
omnipotent    King   should   enter   into   thy   soul 
thou  must  see  to  it  that  thy  heart  be  pure,  inno^ 
cent,  quiet    and    free,    unoccupied    and    empty 
silent  and  meek;    innocent  of  sins  and  short-' 
comings,  free  from  fear,  emptied  of  all  thought 
silent  and  meek  under  trials  and  temptations.'' 
"  In  this  condition,  in  which  the  soul  is  concen- 
trated upon  self  and  in  its  deepest  sanctuary 
hides  the  image  of  God ;  in  this  loving  surrender 
of  self,  in  which  the  soul  esteems  as  naught  all 
that  is  outside  of  God's  wiU,  we  hear  the  voice  of 
God,  and  converse  with  Him  as  if  nothing  else 
existed  in  all  the  world."    The  intelligent  world 


238 


MYSTICISM 


of  Italy,  which  just  then  was  getting  heartily 
tired  of  *'  good  works  "  and  of  "  saints,"  as  was 
the  case  in  Germany  at  the  time  of  the  Reforma- 
tion, gladly  and  eagerly  took  to  this  direct  method 
of  approaching  God,  and  the  lower  classes  hailed 
it  as  a  means  of  escape  from  purgatory. 

What  could  even  a  Sergeri  avail  against  the 
heresy  of  Molinos  ?     Sergeri,  the  famous  Jesuit 
preacher,  who  even  in  his  lifetime  was  venerated 
as  a  saint  throughout   Italy  ?     The  church  bells 
might   ring   in  towns   and   villages   at   Sergeri's 
approach,  but  Molinos  was  beyond  his  reach,  for, 
as  yet,  the  Jesuits  of  Rome  had  found  nothing 
irregular  in  him.    Of  little  use  it  was  that  the 
Neapolitan   cardinal,   Carracioli,  laid  before  the 
Holy    Office    an    elaborate    treatise    against    the 
heresy    of    *' passive    prayer,"    which    was    now 
making  thousands   of   converts   in   South   Italy 
also.     Molinos  still  enjoyed  the  popular  favour, 
and  he  had  a  staunch  friend  in  Pope  Innocent  xi., 
who,  as  Cardinal  Benedict  Odescalchi,  had  already 
been  favourably  disposed  towards  Spanish  mysti- 
cism.    In  the  first  year  after  the  accession  of  this 
Pope,  the  fame  of  Mohnos  became  world-renowned. 
He  was  then  an  inmate  of  the  Vatican,  and  soon 
regular    pilgrimages    were    organised   by    priests 
and  prelates  from  all  Catholic  lands,  to  receive 
his  personal  instruction  on  the  doctrine  of  "  the 
pure  faith,"  and  the  psychology  of  the  confes- 


QUIETISTIC  MYSTICISM  239 

sional.    There  can  be  little  doubt  about  it  that 
Innocent— whoopenly  favoured  Protestant  notions 
who  in  the  contest  between  the  Jesuits  and  the 
semi-reformed  Jansenists  sided  with  the  latter 
and  also  in  his  dispute  with  Louis  xiv.  was  sup- 
ported by  that  party-saw  in  the  doctrines  of 
Mohnos  a  chance  of  ridding  himself  from  the 
yoke,  or  at  any  rate  of  easing  the  burden,  which 
the  Jesuits  laid  upon  the  Pope  by  their  unrelenting 
watch  and  guardianship  of  the  papal  office.     The 
very  marked  favour  in  which  Molinos  was  held  at 
the  court  of  Pope   Innocent  xi.  can  hardly  be 
explained  in  any  other  manner,  than  by  assuming 
that  the  Pope  wanted  to  use  this  new  kind  of 
piety  to  give  Catholicism  a  form  which  eventually 
would  have  made  Jesuitism  a  superfluous  factor 
and  would  have  done  away  with  many  meaning- 
less and  wearisome  formalities  in  the  ritual  of 
the  church.     This  desirable  reform  could  easily 
have    been    accomplished    in    the    seventeenth 
century,  especiaUy  at  the  time  of  the  friendly 
encounter  of  a  highly  gifted  director  of  souls  and 
a  rational   Pope.     But    the   propitious    moment 
was  aUowed  to  slip  by,  and  is  only  remembered 
as  a  historical  event  in  which  the  Jesuits  gained 
a  signal  victory. 

The  court  of  Louis  xiv.  was  at  that  time 
the  very  heart  of  the  life  of  France  and  of  the 
world  at  large,  watched  over  by  the  Jesuits  as 


240 


MYSTICISM 


assiduously  as  they  once  guarded  the  papal  court, 
and  therefore  the  centre  from  whence  all  the 
intrigues  proceeded.  The  king's  personal  dislike 
of  the  Pope,  with  whom  he  had  quarrelled  over  the 
revenues  of  vacant  bishoprics,  and  who  moreover 
was  on  friendly  terms  with  the  heretical  Jansenists, 
was  turned  to  good  account  by  his  confessor,  Pere 
la  Chaise,  and  the  clever  manoeuvring  of  other 
Jesuits  at  the  court,  in  counteracting  the  prevailing 
liberal  tendencies  which  threatened  the  life  of 
the  Society  of  Jesus. 

The  king,  physically  weak,  tortured  by  fear 
of  death  and  qualms  of  conscience,  became  an 
easy  tool  in  the  hands  of  the  clergy  ;  he  listened 
to  their  counsel,  and  firmly  believed  that  by  giving 
the  death-stroke  to  papal  liberalism  he  would 
serve  his  own  interests  and  gain  God's  pleasure, 
just  as  he  previously  thought  of  pleasing  God 
by  the  severe  measures  he  adopted  against  the 
Huguenots  and  Jansenists.  And  the  blow  fell 
on  Molinos,  who  now  had  to  learn  how  short  was 
the  distance  between  the  Capitol  and  the  Tarpeian 
rock.  The  Pope  was  not  powerful  enough  to  resist 
the  demands  of  the  French  ambassador  for  the 
institution  of  a  strict  examination  of  Molinos. 
The  demand  was  naturally  strongly  seconded 
by  the  Jesuits,  and  the  result  was  that  Molinos, 
deserted  by  all  who  but  a  short  time  ago  had 
loved  and  honoured  him,  was  required  publicly 


QUIETISTIC  MYSTICISM  241 

to  abjure  his  doctrines.     The  French  ambassador 
himself  had  once  been  one  of  his  intimate  friends. 
This  abjuration  took  place  with  great  pomp 
and  ceremony  on  the  3rd  September  1687,  in  the 
Church  of  St.  Peter  at  Rome.     The  people  who 
formerly  crowded  round  to  hear  him,  and  strewed 
his  path  with  palm  branches,  now  cried  for  him 
to   be  crucified,  and   would   have   dragged   him 
straightway  to  his  death,  if  the  papal  guard  had 
not   stood  round  to  defend  him.     Molinos  was 
condemned  to  close  imprisonment,  taken  to  the 
Dominican  monastery  of    San    Pedro    Montorio, 
and  left  to  a  fate  over  which  a  thick  veil  has  been 
drawn.     In  1697  it  was  announced  that  he  had 
died,    probably    poisoned,    conveniently    cleared 
out  of  the  way  at  a  moment  when  his  release 
was  thought  by  the  French  ecclesiastics  to  be  a 
dangerous   possibility.     And   so   the   threatening 
thunder-cloud  passed  by— and  nothing  came  of 
a  reform  through  the  instrumentality  of  mysticism. 
The  second  drama  of  mysticism  in  which  Louis 
XIV.  and  his  court  took  part,  and  which  was  put 
upon    the   scenes   by   the    unfortunate   Madame 
Guyon  (1648-1717),  also  ended  in  a  mere  emo- 
tional experience.    Ill-health,  conventual  discipline, 
hatred  of  her  relations,  a  forced  marriage,  and 
priest-ridden  slander,  had  led  her  to  the  adoption 
of  religious  views  which  had  originated  in  Switzer- 
land, and  in  which  she  found  strength  and  comfort 
z6 


242 


MYSTICISM 


in  all  the  trials  and  vicissitudes  of  her  eventful 
life.  Switzerland  boasted  at  that  time  much 
spiritual  life.  A  young  and  noble  lady,  Madame 
de  Chantal,  assisted  by  her  confessor,  Francis  de 
Sales,  had  there  instituted  in  1610  a  cloisteral  rule, 
which  in  theory  seemed  a  continuation  of  St. 
Teresa's  mysticism,  but  in  practice  was  a  hysterical 
blunder  which  the  Spanish  nun  would  never  have 
countenanced.  One  hardly  knows  which  is  the 
more  despicable  of  the  two ;  the  woman,  a  widow 
twenty-six  years  old,  who  disfigures  herself  to  avoid 
being  forced  into  a  second  marriage,  and,  forget- 
ting her  motherhood,  tramples  on  her  son,  who  in 
a  desperate  effort  to  prevent  her  from  entering 
the  cloister  throws  himself  in  front  of  his  mother 
before  the  convent  door ; — or  the  priest  who 
persuades  her  that  the  remorse  and  doubt  to 
which  she  presently  becomes  a  prey  are  but  the 
natural  consequences  she  has  to  pay,  the  birth- 
pangs  of  Mary  which  she  must  bear  in  order  that 
her  Redeemer  may  be  brought  forth. 
I  By  such  crafty  reasonings  Francis  de  Sales 
succeeds  in  distorting  the  mind  of  this  richly 
endowed  woman,  and  the  fermentation  of  her  soul, 
which  without  his  interference  would  probably  have 
led  Madame  de  Chantal  away  from  the  sancti- 
moniousness of  good  works,  and  back  to  her 
children  and  her  home,  became  clarified  into  an 
elixir,  henceforth  used  by  the  Catholic  Church  as 


QUIETISTIC  MYSTICISM  243 

a  potent  narcotic  administered  for  the  pacifica- 
tion of  the  troubled  conscience.  This  narcotic  is 
known  as  I'amour  désintéressé.  Doubtless  there 
IS  a  noble  motive  underlying  this  "disinterested 
love,    for  Its  object  is  the  conquest  of  self,  but  it 

Zl'l  u   «'°^"'''  *^'  '^^"S"'"'  ^^'^h  ^"'•k  behind 
such  self  effacmg  devotion,  the  danger  of  egoism 

and  the  danger  of  the  erotic.    Whether  in  this 

condition  of  absolute  surrender  of  soul  one  enjoys 

one  s  own  or  God's  presence,  certain  it  is  that  the 

path  ,s  not  a  straight  one,  and  inevitably  leads  to 

sensuahty.  the  very  thing  one  has  been  trying  to 

nTfiT;.   '■'''  P""'  '°"'^'  ^'^"^  -mused,  could 
not  find  the  natural  way  out  of  the  difficulty,  the 

way  which  Protestantism  took;  the  way  in  which 
God  appears  as  Father,  and  all  mankind  as  brethren- 
the  way  m  which  love  becomes  the  pure  affection 
of  children  for  their  Father,  and  of  brothers  and 
sisters  mutually ;    the  love  which  frees  the  con- 
science  because  it  bids  it  to  follow  the  dictates  of  its 
inner  consciousness ;  the  love  which  overcomes  self 
because  it  inspires  other  thoughts  than  those  con- 
nected with  one's  own  personality.    Because  this 
way  could  not  be  found,  an  artificial  byway  had 
to  be  mvented.  and  a  disinterested  affection  was 
manufactured  which  consisted  in  taking  no  in- 

Chat  ',°  "T^^-    ^'^  S"'^*'^'"  °f  Madame  de 
Chantal  ended  m  the  indiscriminate  ignoring  of 

human  nature,  still  surviving  in  the  doctrines  of 


blii'-fiMiiiiiiiifilfliiiriiåMt^^^^^ 


244 


MYSTICISM 


the  Jesuits.  In  sad  contrast  to  the  Greek  sculptor 
who  prayed  that  his  statue  might  become  alive, 
she  prays— and,  curiously,  both  make  use  of  the 
same  imagery— that  man  might  be  as  a  statue,  as 
cold,  immovable,  devoid  of  feeling,  will,  and 
thought  as  a  statue  in  its  niche. 

"  If  the  statue  in  its  recess  could  speak,  and  we 
were  to  ask  it :    Why  standest  thou  there  ?    it 
would  answer  :   My  lord  and  master  has  put  me 
here.   Why  dost  thou  not  move  ?    Because  it  is  my 
lord  and  master's  will  that  I  should  be  immovable. 
Of  what  use  art  thou  here  ?     Of  what  profit  is  it 
to  thee  to  stand  like  this  ?     I  do  not  exist  for  any 
profit  I  may  derive  from  it,  but  merely  that  I  may 
serve  the  master's  purpose  and  obey  his  will.     But 
thou  canst  not  see  him  !     No,  it  would  answer, 
but  he  sees  me,  and  it  is  his  pleasure  to  know  that 
I  stand  in  the  place  where  he  has  put  me.     But 
wouldst  thou  not  like  to  possess  the  power  of 
moving,  and  to  be  able  to  draw  nearer  to  him  ? 
No,  not  without  he  wished  it.     Hast  thou  then  no 
desires?     No,  for  I   stand  where  my  lord  and 
master  has  placed  me  ;  his  pleasure  in  me  is  the 
only  thing  that  satisfies  my  soul." 

This  view  of  life— if  it  may  be  called  by  so 
exalted  a  name— was  the  one  adopted  by  Madame 
de  la  Mothe-Guyon.  Hers  was  a  nature  which 
rejoiced  in  affliction  and  gloried  in  physical  pain, 
otherwise  one  would  think  that  she  might  have 


QUIETISTIC  MYSTICISM  245 

been  satisfied  with  her  share  of  sorrow,  in  having 
a  wicked  mother-in-law,  a  disagreeable  husband 
and  a  Jesuitical  brother,  without  adding  to  it  the 
''  refreshment  "   of  having  periodicaUy  a  sound 
tooth   extracted,   leaving  the  decayed  ones  un- 
touched  ;    also  enjoying  the  pleasure,  every  time 
she  sealed  a  letter,  of  letting  the  hot  wax  drop  on 
to  her  fingers,  and  when  nursing  the  sick  being 
guilty  of  the  abominable  perversity  of  eating  of 
their  vomit.     She  boldly  declared  that  for  the 
ove  of  Christ  she  was  consumed  with  longing  for 
suffering.     Suddenly  she  was  seized  with  a  dislike 
for  all  creatures,  aU  that  was  outside  her  love  of 
Christ  became  repulsive  to  her.     The  cross  which 
hitherto  she  had  borne  with  resignation  now  was 
her  joy  and  her  delight.     So  greatly  had  this  poor 
soul   been  tortured  with   grief,   that    she  made 
her  grief  into  a  joy.     Yet  there  is  none  of  that 
repulsive    coldness    in    her    which    characterised 
Madame  de  Chantal.     It  does  not  enter  into  her 
mmd  to  desert  her  children,  in  fact  it  was  her  one 
consolation  to  take  refuge  with  them  when  the 
world  rejected  her.     With  gentle  patience  she  bore 
the  subtle  tortures  and  the  malicious  aspersions 
mflicted  upon  her  by  the  priests  when  in  her 
widowhood   she    devoted   herself  to    a  religious 
life  and  when,  before  retiring  from  the  worid,  she 
had  given  away  all   her   property  in   charities. 
Ihen  with  her  own  hands  she  nursed  the  sick 


lOMAM^HOÉk 


246 


MYSTICISM 


and  bound  up  their  wounds ;  even  the  day  came 
when  she,  who  had  once  commanded  one  of  the 
largest  fortunes  in  France,  had  to  beg  Madame 
de  la  Chetardier  for  some  articles  of  underclothing 
as  she  was  quite  destitute.  And  another  day 
came  when  she — who  had  been  the  confidante  of 
Madame  de  Maintenon,  and  who  had  set  the  fashion 
in  Paris  of  a  certain  kind  of  piety— was  lying  sick 
and  lonely  in  her  cell,  a  prey  to  the  persecutions 
and  torments  of  the  relentless  Bishop  Bossuet, 
who  brutally  attempted  to  draw  confessions  from 
her  in  her  weak  state.    All  this  she  meekly  bore. 

And  because  she  possessed  this  Christian  strength, 
there  is  in  the  mysticism  of  Madame  Guyon  a 
delicacy  of  feeling  which  neither  Madame  de 
Chantal  nor  Francis  de  Sales  attained  to,  although 
their  ideas  were  practically  the  same.  As  a  matter 
of  fact,  Madame  Guyon  mistrusts  all  visionary  and 
ecstatic  conditions.  In  a  vision,  she  says,  one  sees 
neither  God  nor  Christ,  but  only  an  angel  of  light, 
a  reflection  of  Christ,  as  the  rainbow  reflects  the 
sun.  Ecstasy  she  explains  as  spiritual  sensuality, 
in  which  the  devil  by  sweet  experiences  seeks  to 
mislead  the  soul  and  draw  it  away  from  Christ. 
Even  holy  enthusiasm,  which  is  a  force  of  attrac- 
tion from  God  Himself,  is  for  her  a  condition  of 
incompleteness,  because  the  soul  remains  chained 
to  self ;  that  is,  it  is  occupied  with  itself,  although 
all  the  time  trying  to  escape  from  self.     However 


QUIETISTIC  MYSTICISM  247 

much  people  may  admire  this  sublime  condition  it 
IS  imperfect,  and  shows  that  there  is  something 
lackmg  m  human  nature. 

Therefore-and  now  one  would  expect  some- 
hing  sensible,  for  all  this  rightly  interpreted 
totally  upsets  the  programme  of  mysticism,  but 
alas !  the  conclusion  is  Quietism-therefore :  self 
must  be  given  up  entirely.  True  enthusiasm  and 
perfect  ecstasy  are  consummated  in  total  negation  • 
the  soul,  empied  of  all  its  attributes,  and  having  no 
will  and  no  desire  apart  from  God,  glides  into  the 
Godhead,  the  only  place  where  it  is  at  home 

In  this  manner  Madame  de  Guyon  also  reaches 
the  point  of  annihilation.     Yet^like  St   Teresa^ 
she  imparts  a  kind  of  beauty  and  poetry  to  this  sad 
retrogressive  journey  of  the  soul.     In  her  first' 
admirable  book,  Les  torrents,   she  describes  how 
God,  her  spiritual  guide,  like  a  trusted  steersman 
pilots  her  safely  through  the  floods  and  torrents 
of  life  and  the  many  currents  to  which  the  soul  is 
exposed,  until  she  reaches  the  sea ;  and  the  sea  is 
God.     A  far  wider  circulation,  however,  had  her 
Short  Guide  to  Prayer,-  published  in  1688  under 
the  title   of   Moyen   court   et  tres  facile   de  faire 
oraison.    This   book  made  her  fortune,  for  like 
wildfire  It  spread  through  the  whole  of  France 
and  instructed  pious  folk  in  a  few  simple  words 
about  the  new  road  to  salvation  ;  a  Guida  spirituale 
which  soon  became  the  catechism  of  the  mundane 


248 


MYSTICISM 


I 


world.  But  this  book  was  also  her  misfortune,  for 
therein  her  heresies  were  printed  black  on  white. 
In  1688,  after  suffering  much  from  calumny  and 
priestcraft,  she  was  suddenly  set  free  at  the 
instance  of  Madame  de  Maintenon,  and  soon  after 
gained  this  lady  over  to  her  views.  The  royal 
mistress  was  by  no  means  a  person  without  heart 
or  intellect.  With  interest  she  followed  the 
religious  currents  of  the  day,  and  she  spent  her 
last  days  in  the  Convent  of  St.  Cyr,  where  she 
founded  a  celebrated  infant  asylum.  Her  cell 
became  the  audience  chamber  for  clerics  of  all 
denominations,  with  whom  she  sometimes  con- 
versed for  hours  at  a  time. 

Madame  Guyon  became  her  favourite,  and  the 
Moyen  court  had  the  honour  of  finding  a  place 
in  Madame  de  Maintenon's  pocket.  The  authoress 
was  admitted  at  court ;  she  gave  lectures  in 
Madame's  cabinet,  and  she  propagated  her 
doctrines  in  the  Convent  of  St.  Cyr  by  holding 
conferences  and  instituting  highly  spiritual 
exercises.  Thus  she  spent  four  happy  years,  and 
seemed  to  have  found  her  right  place,  appreciated 
by  the  women  where  the  men  had  betrayed  and 
misjudged  her.  She  had  found  her  vocation  as 
woman,  and  her  many  trials  and  troubles  stood 
her  in  good  stead. 

Once  again  she  fell  under  the  suspicion  of  the 
clergy.    The  mighty  Bishop  of  Meaux,  the  prelate 


QUIETISTIC  MYSTICISM  249 

Bossuet,  much  elated  by  the  recent  victory  of 
the   French   Church   in  Rome  at  Molinos'  trial 
and  conviction,  suddenly  became  alarmed  at  the 
popularity  of  Madame  de  Maintenon's  protegee. 
The   dispute,   however,   which   started   with   the 
discussion  of  Madame  Guyon's  principles,  embraced 
considerably  more  than  the  writings  of  this  un- 
fortunate lady,  who,  after  recalling  many  of  her 
theories  and  being  acquitted  of  heresy,  was  accused 
of   immorality,  caused    much  scandal,   fell    into 
disfavour  at  court,  was  twice  imprisoned  in  the 
BastiUe,  and  ended  her  days  at  her  son's  house  in 
a  small  town  near  Blois.    The  controversies  con- 
nected  with  her  trial  are  of  minor  importance 
compared  with  the  fierce  dispute  which  ensued 
between  the  two  chief  dignitaries  of  the  Church 
in  France,  the  "  Eagle  of  Meaux  "  and  the  "  Swan 
of  Cambray,''  Bossuet  and  Fénelon. 

Both  had  been  called  upon  to  give  their  verdict 
in  the  case  of  Madame  Guyon.  The  two  prelates 
could  easily  have  agreed  in  condemning  certain  of 
her  theories  (which  she  eventually  recaUed),  but 
upon  the  point  of  the  mysticism  underlying  these 
it  was  not  so  easy  for  them  to  be  of  one  mind. 
Fénelon,  whose  gentle,  emotional  soul  and  poetic 
refinement  manifests  itself  in  all  his  writings  and 
is  reflected  in  the  literature  influenced  by  him, 
had  from  an  early  period  followed  with  keen 
interest  the  chances  of  the  fife  of  inner  contempla- 


250 


MYSTICISM 


tion,  revived  by  Madame  Guyon,  and  it  was  far 
from  him  to  wish  that  this  revival  should  be 
nipped  in  the  bud.  Bossuet,  on  the  other  hand, 
recognising  mysticism  only  in  its  scholastic  and 
ecclesiastical  form,  wrote  a  violent  treatise  against 
Madame  Guyon,  Instruction  sur  les  etats  de 
Voraison,  1707.  Fénelon,  who  in  the  meantime 
had  become  Archbishop  of  Cambray,  refused  not 
only  to  put  his  **  imprimatur  "  under  this,  but 
wrote  a  counter-article  which  added  greatly  to 
aggravate  the  hostile  feelings  between  the  two 
churchmen.  In  his  article,  Explication  des 
Maximes  des  Saints,  Fénelon  speaks  in  a  very 
conciliatory  manner  about  French  Quietism. 

M.  Matter,  the  historian  of  French  mysticism, 
is  to  a  certain  extent  right  to  be  indignant  that 
Madame  Guyon  should  always  be  blamed  and 
Fénelon  admired,  while  all  the  time  it  was  the 
ideas  of  Madame  Guyon  which  the  great  author 
developed,  and  which  had  made  him  into  a  mystic. 
Yet  there  is  a  distinct  difference  in  their  views. 
The  southern  intensity  and  womanly  impetuosity 
of  Madame  Guyon's  views,  partly  the  result  of 
temperament  and  partly  due  to  the  influence  of 
Spanish  mysticism,  was  in  Fénelon  converted  into 
a  calm  collectedness.  He  understood  how  to 
prepare  French  wine  without  any  Spanish  ad- 
mixtures, and  he  saw  the  practical  possibility  of 
the  principle.     He  realised  that  the  disinterested 


QUIETISTIC  MYSTICISM  251 

love,  which   in   Quietism  leads   to  barren  waste, 
contains  something  which  might  be  made  profitable 
to  Christian  life,  by  giving  a  slightly  different 
meaning  to  the  word  amour  than  the  one  attached 
to  it  by  the  nuns.     The  nuns  founded  their  re- 
lationship to  God  on  erotic  love,  the  amorousness 
which  they  had  struggled  to  conquer  in  their 
natural    bodies.     But    Fénelon   was   not    of   an 
amorous  nature  ;   he  was  rather  a  highly  moral 
and    philosophical    personality.     Therefore    the 
philosopher  in  him  queries :   Who  is  this  God  who 
should  be  loved  in  this  manner  ?     And  the  moralist 
in  him  answers:  He  is  ''goodness"  {Vidée  du  Men). 
To  love  disinterestedly,  then,  is  the  same  as  to 
give  oneself  up  to  goodness  (or  good  works),  and 
consequently  this  affection  may  be  defined  as  the 
highest  ethical  condition  man  can  attain  to.    As  we 
love  God  for  His  own  sake,  so  we  love  goodness  for 
goodness'  sake ;  and  therewith  an  ethical  stand- 
point has  been  reached  where  one  is  not  influenced 
either  by  hope  of  reward  or  fear  of  punishment, 
in  other  words,  the  standpoint  at  which  personality 
comes  to  its  due.     And  so,  ever  since  the  days  of 
Fénelon,  disinterested  charity  is  preferably  spoken 
of,   implying  that  it  is  not  so  much  a  question 
of  love  in  the  general  sense,  but  rather  of  Christian 
love  expressing  itself  in  works  of  charity.     In  this 
theory,    at    once    philosophical    and    Christian, 
Fénelon  gave  to  the  pet  ideas  of  the  Quietists 


I 


252 


MYSTICISM 


I 


an  application  which  at  once  made  them  popular 
not  only  among  the  Catholics,  to  whom  the  same 
idea  under  the  form  given  to  it  by  the  Quietist 
nuns  had  been  repulsive,  but  also — and  this  is  the 
more  remarkable  fact — in  the  philosophical  world. 
No  less  a  man  than  Leibniz,  the  great  German 
philosopher  and  statesman,  declared  that  dis- 
interested love  in  the  form  given  to  it  by  Fénelon 
was  incontestably  the  ideal  of  true  humanity  and 
true  Christianity. 

Leibniz,  who  as  philosopher  sought  to  strike  a 
compact  betwen  the  religious  and  the  humane,  and 
as  statesman  endeavoured  to  reconcile  the  various 
parties  in  the  church,  found  in  this  suggestion 
of  Fénelon' s  a  form  of  piety  in  which  all  could 
be  agreed.  *'  I  believe,"  he  writes,  *'  that  it 
was  the  intention  of  Monseignor  the  Archbishop 
of  Cambray  to  lift  up  the  soul  to  the  true  love  of 
God,  and  to  bring  it  into  that  condition  of  repose 
which  necessarily  follows  where  this  love  is  enjoyed, 
at  the  same  time  rejecting  the  illusions  of  false  peace 
in  God ;  and  I  think  that  nothing  further  need  be 
preached  but  this  true  love  towards  God  "  (Frag- 
ments, pp.  174-175).  "  This  divine  love,"  he  says 
(p.  173),  "  stands  immeasurably  high  above  all 
earthly  affection.  For  all  that  is  worthy  of  our 
love  in  creation  is  a  part  of  our  own  joy  and 
happiness,  while  our  joy  in  God  is  not  a  part  of  our 
happiness  but  our  complete  happiness.     It  is  the 


QUIETISTIC  MYSTICISM  253 

source  of  all  happiness,  the  only  joy  which  is  not 
harmful  in  its  consequences,  the  only  joy  which 
is  truly  and  absolutely  good,  and  which  can  cause 
neither  remorse  nor  doubt."  This  disinterested 
love  implies  for  Leibniz  also  the  correct  relation- 
ship towards  God  and  the  correct  relationship 
towards  man  ;  it  is  true  piety  and  true  morality, 
for  only  where  egoism  has  been  effectually  con- 
quered can  there  be  question  of  true  morahty. 
And  so  love  becomes  the  basis  of  society  and  the 
principle  of  the  law.  In  this  connection  Leibniz 
defines  the  administration  of  justice  as  "  Charity 
regulated  by  wisdom  "  (la  charité  reglée  suivant  la 
sagesse),  as  a  social  principle  having  the  public 
welfare  in  view,  which  can  only  be  carried  out  by 
keeping  in  mind  the  general  interest  and  not  the 
interest  of  the  individual. 

Thus  the  great  thinker  formulated  the  funda- 
mental idea  of  the  mysticism  of  the  seventeenth 
century  ,which  had  originated  in  the  desperate 
struggle  of  individual  souls  to  rise  above  self.  Out 
of  unprofitable  self-effacement  he  formed  a  prin- 
ciple of  profitable,  energetic  social  intercourse, 
which  became  the  pulsating  power  of  the  age  of 
Rationalism. 


XII.  OUTCROPS  AND  AFTER-EFFECTS 

In  conclusion,  we  would  briefly  pass  in  review  the 
variegated  crowd  of  mystical  forms  and  thoughts 
which  have  stirred  cultured  Europe  since  the 
classical  days  of  mysticism. 

Roman  Catholicism  still  bears  practically  the 
stamp  which  it  received  in  the  seventeenth 
century.  Both  the  piety  of  the  laity  and  the 
practices  of  the  Jesuits  are  tainted  with  mysticism  ; 
prayers  and  hymns,  images  and  legends,  carry 
the  impress  of  it,  that  is,  in  so  far  as  medieval 
notions  can  be  kept  alive  in  a  civilisation  which 
will  no  longer  tolerate  asceticism,  absolutism  of 
the  Church,  and  theology  as  only  scientific  know- 
ledge. These  are  things,  says  the  Catholic,  which 
demand  an  intimacy  of  life  of  which  bare  Protest- 
antism has  no  conception.  We  cultivate  in  our 
cloister  gardens  a  flower  which  cannot  thrive 
with  you  ;  we  have  dug  up  the  treasure  which 
the  fool  had  left  buried  in  the  ground. 

More  prominent  than  with  us  is  the  dominion 
of  mysticism  in  the  east  of  Europe,  where  the 

glaring  pictures  in  the  churches,  the  visionary 

254 


OUTCROPS  AND  AFTER-EFFECTS    255 

monks,  and  the  vast  multitudes  of  patient,  passive 
people    all    silently  bear    witness    to  the  power 
exercised  by  a  religion  which  controls  the  masses 
without  words,  without  thoughts,  without  deeds, 
except  those  prescribed  by  the  rites  and  discipline 
of  the  Church.     And  yet  the  power  of  mysticism 
is  not  greatest  in  the  *'  Orthodox  "  churches. 
It  is  in  the  Russian  sects  that  mysticism  is  yet 
^seen  in  its   primitive  force.     The  close  church 
"^  atmosphere  fostered  the  hectic   epidemic  which 
broke    out    here    as    elsewhere.    The    names    of 
these  sects  show  their  spirit  :    "  Shakers,*'  "  The 
Silent  Ones,"  '*  They  who  find  rest  in  this  life," 
"Not— ours"    (for   they   are   God's).     The   best 
known  are  the  "  Duchoborzer,"-- "  Spirit  Fighters," 
—also   children   of   the   seventeenth   century,    a, 
sect  which  gained  entrance  in  Russia  in  the  reign 
of  Peter  the  Great.    They  have  the  "  inner  light  " 
which  teaches  them  all  that  is  necessary  for  salva- 
tion ;   teaches  them  also  to  dispense  with  church 
and  mass,  and  to  reject  the  sign  of  the  cross  and 
the  sacraments;  to  refuse  military  service  and 
the  taking  of  the  oath— a  truly  dangerous  element 
in  the  Church  and  the  army  of  Russia.     Therefore 
these  sectarians  were  dispatched  to  the  Crimea  ; 
there,  however,  they  were   too  comfortable,  and 
nowadays  they  reside  somewhere  in  Trans-Caucasia. 
The  "  Stundists,"  evangelicaUy  minded  pietists, 
called  into  existence  not  long  ago  by  the  peasant 


256 


MYSTICISM 


Michael  Ratrischnyj,  will  also  shortly  have  to 
be  banished.  For  they  likewise  abuse  the  sacra- 
ments, or  call  them  mere  symbols  ;  but  the  worst 
feature  in  their  belief  is  that  they  firmly  hold 
that  all  men  are  equal,  that  all  have  equal  rights, 
that  there  ought  to  be  neither  money  nor  com- 
merce in  the  world.  These  folks  are  not  wholly 
unfamiliar  to  us,  although  we  may  not  know 
them  by  their  sectarian  name.  We  have  all 
heard  of  the  long-bearded  farmer,  a  peasant 
with  the  title  of  count  and  bearing  a  poet's  name, 
who  endorses  all  these  views,  and  has  besides 
very  peculiar  ideas  about  marriage.  One  cannot 
really  understand  Tolstoi  unless  one  knows  some- 
thing of  the  mysticism  of  the  Russian  people 
and  their  communistic  ideals. 

Looking  westward,  we  discover  the  glow  of 
mysticism  even  behind  England's  foggy  horizon. 
The  people  there  are  not  so  sober-minded  as 
Continentals  are  apt  to  think.  Mingled  with 
the  prose  of  life,  with  its  matter-of-factness,  and 
its  business,  there  is  a  ring  of  softer  notes,  and 
sometimes  of  stronger  voices,  which  speak  another 
language  than  that  known  in  the  Parliament  or 
on  the  Exchange,  another  language  even  than  is 
heard  in  the  Sunday's  sermon  in  the  Cathedral. 

"We  are  such  stuff 
As  dreams  are  made  of,  and  our  little  life 
Is  rounded  with  a  sleep  I" 


OUTCROPS  AND  AFTER-EFFECTS    257 

If  the  finest  and  healthiest  of  all  poets  could 
lay  such  words  on  the  lips  of  Englishmen,  what 
might  not  be  expected  of  the  blind  Puritan  singer 
whose  Paradise  Lost  is  more  beautiful  than  his 
Paradise  Regained,  and  whose  most  beautiful 
poem  is  about  the  night  of  blindness,  his  own 
experience,  and  the  light  that  breaks  through 
the  darkness. 

And  what   a  world   of  darkness  and  of  Hght 
there  was  in  the  mind  of  the  tinker  who,  out  of 
his  own  humble  pHgrimage  through  life,  created 
the  book  which  after  the  Bible  is  the  most  read 
of  all  English  books,  the  friend  of  all  simple  be- 
lievers, and  the  admiration  of  critics  and  scholars. 
Do  not  Macaulay,  the  English  academician,  and 
Taine,  the  French  scholar,  vie  with  one  another 
in  singing  the  praises  of  John's  Bunyan's  "  Pilgrim's 
Progress r    because    it    describes   so   clearly   and 
vividly,  so  earnestly  yet  so  pleasantly,  the  inner 
experiences  of  the  soul  as  weU  as  the  outer  con- 
ditions of  life?     Yet,  after  all,  it  was  only  in- 
tended for  a  book  of  devotion,  written  in  mystic 
style,  noting  the  various  stages  on  the  road  of 
hfe,  until  the  journey's  end  is  reached  and  the 
days  of  sorrow  are  ended ;  until  the  weary  wanderer, 
who  has  lived  a  life  of  faith,  enters  the  Promised 
Land,  which  he   has   longed  for  with  a  greater 
longing    than   they   who  wait   for  the  morning. 
With  Bunyan  all  is  personal,  all  is  realistic,  every 
17 


258 


MYSTICISM 


word-picture  is  clear  and  plain,  every  conception 
palpable.  Yet  in  him  stirred  the  old  vague 
longing,  and  he  had  to  go  through  all  the  phases 
of  intuition  and  ecstasy,  in  fact  through  the  whole 
process  of  spiritual  darkness,  before  he  learned 
to  see  the  world  in  the  light  of  actuality. 

Then  there  is  also  the  divinely  inspired  tanner, 
George  Fox, — it  would  seem  that  spiritual  mysteries 
have  often  been  entrusted  to  simple  craftsmen, — 
who  one  day  made  himself  a  suit  of  leather,  in 
order  that  in  this  practical  attire  he  might  preach 
with  the  greater  independence  the  holy  mysteries 
which  had  been  revealed  to  him.  Carlyle  fitly 
says  that  the  making  of  this  suit  of  leather  was 
one  of  the  most  remarkable  incidents  in  modern 
history.  Truly  the  Quakers  and  their  mysticism 
are  a  modern  curiosity,  although  their  small  ex- 
ternal peculiarities,  their  sombre  garb  and  shovel 
hat,  are  gradually  being  discarded.  The  inner  man 
gives  them  plenty  to  do  ;  for  in  no  sect  the 
internal  sensations  are  made  so  much  of  as  among 
these  peace-loving  Anglo-Saxons,  who  in  our  days, 
as  in  the  days  of  old,  are  the  untiring  advocates 
of  honesty,  piety,  and  charity  ;  these  first  idealists 
of  equality  and  human  right,  who  address  all 
people  as  "  thou,"  and  take  off  their  hat  to  no 
one.  These  first  promulgators  of  universal  peace 
were  never  sought  by  any  Indian's  arrow,  for  they 
brought    their   red  brethren  goodwill  and  com- 


OUTCROPS  AND  AFTER-EFFECTS    359 

mercial  benefits  instead  of  discord  ;    no  modern 
projectiles  ever  struck  them  down,  except  when 
they   exposed  themselves   to  shot   and    shell    in 
ministering  to  the  needs  of  others  suffering  from 
the   horrors  of  war.      All    this   is  good   Christi- 
anity, and  the  kind   of  Christianity  that  is  not 
fruitless.     There    was    a    time    when    American 
liberty  was  held  to  be  the  pattern  of  the  rights 
of  humanity,  as  they  were  proclaimed  through- 
out   France   in    the    eighteenth   century.     There 
stiU  exist  a  prison-administration  and  a  prison- 
supervision,  which  owe  their  being  to  the  Phila- 
delphian  Brotherhood   and   the  saint    of  prison 
life,  Elizabeth  Fry, 

The  books  of  the  Quakers  reveal  pure,  clear 
mysticism:    inner  light  and  inner  peace,   God's 
voice  in  man  and  in  all  things  with  which  men 
come  in  contact;    no   set  teachers  and  no  set 
doctrine,  and  Christ  in  the  first  place  an  inner 
experience.       No     external     rites    or    prescribed 
prayers— only  waiting   in   silent    expectancy   for 
the  voice  of  the  Holy  Ghost  to  find  utterance. 
Such  is  their  worship.    Then  some  one  is  suddenly 
moved  to  speak  by  the  Holy  Spirit ;    prophetic 
utterances,  accompanied  by  violent  shaking,  foUow, 
and  from  this  latter  sign  they  have  derived  their 
name.     In  some  of  the  American  branches  this 
quaking   has    degenerated    into    ecstatic    leaping 
and  jumping.     The  ''  inner  light  "  compels  them 


rj!.1»ai?*!>:«  ,.B»imjii-wirtiik.,.J*ML.iM^ 


26o 


MYSTICISM 


to  read  their  Bible  assiduously,  and  in  silence 
they  meditate  upon  what  they  have  read. 
This  is  the  reason  that  their  religion,  although 
in  its  mystical  principles  in  no  way  distinguish- 
able from  any  other  (not  even  pagan)  mysti- 
cism, has  yet  remained  Christian.  Possibly  their 
rationalism,  which  kept  them  in  touch  with  the 
inner  side  of  Christianity  and  with  the  spirit  of 
Christ,  is  the  cause  that  their  Christianity  is  so 
inward  and  intimate,  and  that  they  walk  in  the 
spirit  of  Christ  to  the  shame  of  many  other  Chris- 
tians. The  smallness  of  their  numbers,  on  the 
other  hand,  may  prove  that  the  basis  on  which 
they  founded  their  Christendom  is  not  rich  enough 
to  support  a  popular  Christianity. 

Since  the  age  of  Puritanism  and  Quakerism, 
mysticism  has  run  like  an  undercurrent  among 
the  English  populace,  while  the  upper  classes  have 
bowed  before  the  laws  of  reason  and  utilitarianism. 
But  the  old  craving  has  never  been  entirely 
killed.  With  the  entrance  of  Romanticism 
in  England  the  springs  of  mysticism  burst  open 
afresh ;  it  mildly  flows  through  Wordsworth's 
poems,it  rushes  wildly  through  Carlyles  Puritanical 
and  pantheistic  idealism,  and  wakes  a  somewhat 
feebler  echo  in  Emerson  on  the  other  side  of  the 
Atlantic.  Even  Tennyson,  with  all  his  clearness,  is 
somewhat  of  an  ecstatic  when  in  genuine  mystic 
fashion  he  challenges  his  poetic  genius  to  reveal 


OUTCROPS  AND  AFTER-EFFECTS    261 

itself.  Robert  Browning  and  Charles  Kingsley,  in 
short,  most  of  the  popular  English  authors,  have 
drawn  from  the  mystic  weU,  or  have  it  bubbling 
in  themselves. 

All  these  men,  on  the  surface  so  different  from 
one  another,  have  this  one  thing  in  common,  that 
they  all  desire  to  see  the  -  infinite  in  things  finite," 
and  consecrate  their  life  to  the  finding  of  it.     For, 
as  Samuel  Johnson,  the  forerunner   of  idealism] 
said,  in  the  materialistic  age  which  preceded  this 
period,  ''people  have  lost  their  soul  out  of  their 
body,  and  now  run  hither  and  thither  in  search  of 
It."     Now   these   men   saw— and    especially   the 
poets  among  them  saw-the  infinite  reflected  in 
nature,  and  man  as  the  central  figure  in  nature 
the  symbol  of  the  meeting  between  nature  and 
spirit. 

"The  sense  sublime 
Of  something  far  more  deeply  interfused, 
Whose  dwelhng  is  the  hght  of  setting  suns. 
And  the  round  ocean,  and  the  hving  air 
And  the  blue  sky,  and  in  the  mind  of  man  • 
A  motion  and  a  spirit,  that  impels 
All  thinking  things,  all  objects  of  all  thoughts, 
And  rolls  through  all  things." 

This  is  not  only  Wordsworth's  sentiment  but  it 
expresses  the  feeling  of  a  host  of  English  poets, 
phUosophers,  and  theologians,  their  minds  bearing 
the  impress  of  intuition,  and  having  been  fertilised 
by  pantheism  ;  from  William  Law,  the  Platonist  of 


262 


MYSTICISM 


the  eighteenth  century,  down  to  such  modem  men 
as  Francis  Newman,  with  his  Phases  of  Faith, 
In  all  we  notice  the  same  desire  which  we  met 
with  in  Fénelon  and  Leibniz,  the  desire  to  make 
the  divine  fit  in  with  the  demands  of  reason  and 
morality.  The  Quakers,  in  their  rational  explicit 
way,  made  out  that  the  *'  inner  light  "  is  the  same 
as  reason  and  conscience.  The  Romantic  School, 
however,  explains  these  ideas  psychologically,  and 
amplifies  them  into  a  general  theory.  In  Julius 
Hare's  celebrated  work,  The  Victory  of  Faith 
(1839),  th^  English  counterpart  of  Schleiermacher's 
Reden,  a  depth  of  soul  is  attributed  to  man,  in 
which  mind  and  heart  and  will  in  original  unity 
are  inseparably  present.  This  primitive  force  is 
faith,  the  faith  which  raises  heart  and  will  and 
mind  from  the  visible  to  the  invisible  ;  the  power 
in  man  by  which  the  spiritual  world  can  exercise 
its  influence  over  man,  and  therefore  the  only 
faith  by  which  man  can  live.  This  same  idea 
Newman  expresses  in  his  Phases  of  Faith,  and 
Emerson  lingers  lovingly  on  the  contemplation 
of  this  inner  nature,  and  finds  in  it  not  only  the 
unity  of  man's  being,  but  also  man's  unity  with 
God.  In  the  innermost  depths  of  the  human 
soul,  he  says,  lies  the  soul  of  the  universe,  the 
wisdom  of  silence,  the  essence  of  beauty  in  which 
all  worldly  things  are  contained  in  their  due 
proportions  :  "  the  Everlasting  Existence."     And 


OUTCROPS  AND  AFTER-EFFECTS    263 

as  he  contemplates  external  nature  he  reads  with 
keen,    kindly    perception    the    book    of    nature, 
written  in  the  secret  language  of  God,  and  finds 
God  himself  in  all  the  beautiful  things  of  nature. 
In  the  joy  of  this  discovery  he  forgets  to  see  what 
IS  ugly  or  to  notice  the  evil.     To  him  God  in- 
dweUing  nature   means   the   prevalence   of  good 
m  the  world,  and  God  taking  up  his  abode  in  man 
means   man   doing   what    is   good.      This   is   an 
Idyllic  nature-mysticism  in  temperate  sunshine, 
and  a  moral  optimism  which  sounds  like  music 
without  discords. 

His   friend   Carlyle  declares   the  unity  of  the 
world  with  the  thunder  of  Sinai,  and  reveals  the 
mner  bemg  of  nature  by  volcanic  eruptions.     To 
him  the  firm  earth  on  which  we  tread  (and  who 
trod  it  firmer  than  Carlyle  !)  and  the  stars  we  see 
and  the  worlds  we  imagine— the  whole  universe, 
in  fact,  is  but  a  garment  in  which  God  clothes 
Himself ;  God,  who  is  invisible  in  Himself,  but  made 
visible  in  this  vesture.     Nevertheless,  He  is  real  in 
His  invisibleness,  so  real  that  He  is  the  only  reality 
Therefore  the  world  is  before  all  things  spirit  • 
before  all  things  infinity,  before  all  things  justice- 
completely  controlled  by  these  qualities,  existing 
through   them  alone,  without    them    mere    show 
and  shadow.     The  worth  of  all  things  is  in  the 
Ideal ;  all  reality  is  in  the  ideal ;  only  through  the 
ideal   the   visible  assumes  reality  ;  it  would  lose 


264 


MYSTICISM 


all  its  value,  would  dissolve  into  nothing  if  the 
ideal  were  absent.  And  as  this  Divine  Presence 
dwells  in  nature,  so  it  also  dwells  in  man.  Is 
there  any  clearer  manifestation  of  the  Divinity  to 
our  eyes  and  to  our  heart  than  in  our  neighbour  ? 
"  Bending  before  men  is  a  reverence  done  to  this 
Revelation  in  the  Flesh."  We  are  the  wonder 
above  all  wonders,  the  great,  unfathomable 
mystery  of  God.  We  cannot  understand  it,  nor 
can  we  argue  about  it,  but  we  can,  if  we  will,  feel 
and  experience  that  it  is  verily  true. 

All  this  we  read  in  the  *'  Philosophy  of  Clothes," 
in  that  marvellous  book  Sartor  Resartus  (1835), 
in  which  Spinoza's  pantheism  and  German 
Romanticism,  Puritan  earnestness,  and  English 
matter-of-factness  meet — mysticism  in  every  word 
and  behind  every  outbreak  of  eloquence.  And 
yet  the  more  Carlyle  thinks  about  it,  the  more 
this  transparent  perception  becomes  a  clear  dis- 
cernment of  the  moral  reality  of  which  this  God- 
filled,  God-inspired  nature  consists.  The  great 
spirit  of  the  world  is  just,  that  was  the  message 
of  the  prophets,  of  Calvin  and  also  of  Fichte.  All 
great  men  have  said  it,  all  noble  men  have  ex- 
perienced it  ;  it  is  the  voice  of  wisdom  in  the 
history  of  man  ;  the  voice  of  nature  in  man.  He 
who  defies  this  reality  must  run  aground  against 
it, — all  have  done  so  sooner  or  later, — for  this  law 
is  immutable  as  the  law  of  phyiscal  nature  itself. 


OUTCROPS  AND  AFTER-EFFECTS    265 

.  Therefore,  obey  the  law  of  reality,  for  it  is  the 
law  of  God  and  the  law  of  nature.     Be  true  and 
just   and  natural;     do    thy  work    honestly  and 
without  presumption,  do  it  with  all  thy  might ; 
be  brave,  be  earnest,  be  just  and  merciful ;  think 
not  of  thyself,  but  think  of  others ;  give  thyself  to 
the  society  in  which  thou  movest,  and  to  the  cause 
for  which  thou  workest,  and  thou  shalt  bring  forth 
out  of  this  poor  earth  blessings  abundantly,  as 
^  many  as  can  be  attained  here  below.     Such  is 
"  the  gospel  of  labour  "  which  Carlyle  preached, 
and  this  exhortation  to  practical  activity,  justice,' 
and  self-sacrifice  is  the  basis  of  the  mysticism  of 
the  nineteenth  century.     Through    Carlyle,  with 
his  materialistic  demands,  mysticism  has  taken 
root  in  English  soil,  and  that  in  a  century  which, 
like  Carlyle  himself,  began  with   the  dreams  of 
the  Romantic  School  and  ended  in  the  Realism 
of  labour  and  common  interest. 

But  where  in  the  Lutheran  church  is  the  heritage 
of  mysticism  to  be  found?  Pietism  and  the 
German  Romantic  School  are  the  heritage.  For 
some  time  it  seemed  as  if  the  Lutheran  church 
had  been  disinherited  and  had  retained  no  vestige 
of  mysticism,  although,  through  Luther,  relation- 
ship could  certainly  be  claimed.  He  himself,  with 
advancing  years,  had  broken  off  the  connection, 
and  he  rejoiced  in  having  done  so  when  he  saw 


266 


MYSTICISM 


where  mysticism  had  led  the  Anabaptists,  the 
stepbrothers  of  the  Reformation.  The  Baptists, 
and  particularly  the  *'  prophets  of  Zwickau," 
who  styled  themselves  the  genuine  and  consistent 
Reformers,  in  spite  of  their  radical  notions  still 
practised  mysticism  in  the  old  Catholic  fashion, 
with  ecstasy  and  the  prophetic  "  being  possessed,*' 
with  hatred  against  the  Church  and  hostile  feelings 
towards  the  State,  with  Socialism  and  Theocracy, 
and  the  strange  coupling  together  of  liberty  in 
the  Holy  Ghost  and  slavery  under  sectarian  views 
and  duties,  as  it  is  found  everywhere  in  mystic 
communities.  The  still  more  objectionable  coup- 
ling of  moral  freedom  with  the  slavery  of  sin, 
was  not  absent  in  this  Baptist  form  of  mysticism 
either,  and  there  sin  had  its  own  reward,  for 
the  wages  of  sin  is  death.  The  Baptist  move- 
ment never  grew  to  be  a  historical  power,  but 
its  after  -  effects  are  still  perceptible  now  and 
again,  not  so  much  in  the  Lutheran  but  rather 
in  the  Reformed  Church. 

In  the  Reformed  Church  the  Baptist  spirit 
could  more  easily  find  shelter  ;  for,  in  the  Re- 
formed party,  there  also  lurked  theocracy  and  the 
doctrine  of  penances  and  discipline,  Old  Testa- 
ment inspirations  and  a  Jewish  scrupulousness  in 
the  fulfilment  of  the  law.  The  harshness  and 
dryness  which  prevailed  among  the  followers  of 
Calvin  and  Zwingli  opened  the  door  to  mysticism. 


OUTCROPS  AND  AFTER-EFFECTS    267 

The  reaction  of  feeling  set  in  sooner  there,  and  the 
mistake  of  Calvinism  was  that  it  gave  so  little 
room  to  individual  piety,  that  less  even  than  in  the 
Catholic  church  the  inner,  personal  life  was  cared 
for.     Moreover,  it  had  no  poetry  to  offer  beyond 
what  could  be  culled  from  the  Old  Testament 
writmgs.     The  Lutherans  were  dry  enough,  but 
they  had  at  least  their  Luther  and  Paul  Gerhardt. 
To  Ritschl  belongs  the  credit  of  having  shown 
Lutheran  Pietism  as  a  genuine  offspring  of  the 
Reformed  Church,  where  it  fed  on  the  mysticism 
which,  with  true  Catholic  and  Anabaptistic  birth- 
marks,   went   about   among  the  Zwinglians  and 
Calvinists,  both  in  Germany  and  in  the  Nether- 
lands.    HoUand  was  a  fruitful  soil  for  that  kind 
of  excitement.     There  monastic  piety  always  went 
about  clad  in  the  old  mystical  traditions  of  the 
Middle  Ages.     There  the  memory  still  survived 
of  the  great   Dutch  mystic,  Jan  van  Ruishroek 
(b.  1294),  whose  speculative  pantheism,  as  con- 
tamed  in  his  Dutch  writings,  was  accessible  to 
all,  and  whose  contemplative  piety  survived  in 
the  "  Brotherhood  of   Common   Life."     The  old 
seed  sprang  up  again  with  renewed  vigour,  and 
m   Theodor  Brakel  the  unveiled  semi-  or  wholly 
Catholic  tenor  of  the  mysticism  of  the  seventeenth 
century    in    Holland    is    very    perceptible.      He 
taught  that  true  happiness  consists  in  the  union 
of  the  soul  with  God  and  Christ ;    that  the  only 


268 


MYSTICISM 


really  spiritual  attitude  of  the  soul  is  the  being 
espoused  to  the  perfect  Spirit  :  the  soul  thus 
being  filled  and  satiated  with  God.  His  com- 
patriot, Herman  Witsius,  suggested  that  the 
sanctuary  of  the  "  Celestial  Academy  "  could  not 
be  entered  by  hearing,  nor  by  the  intellect,  nor  by 
faith,  but  only  by  seeing  and  tasting  God.  For 
therein  lies  God's  great  goodness,  that  He  teaches 
His  beloved  by  experience,  by  taking  them  apart 
into  His  secret  place.  His  tabernacle.  In  this  con- 
viction people  began  to  sing  the  old  melody  over 
again,  the  melody  which  resounds  in  the  Song  of 
Solomon  and  the  Shulamite.  The  Pietists  took  up 
the  strain,  and  sang  it  unceasingly  to  prove  the 
Biblical  right  of  their  erotic  love  of  God. 

But  they  proved  the  mystical  rather  than 
the  Biblical  origin  of  their  piety.  In  this  one 
respect,  in  their  erotic  love  of  Jesus,  Pietists  and 
Moravian  Brethren  alike  greedily  absorb  the 
mystic  heritage.  In  other  things  the  Pietists  are 
not  at  all  mystically  disposed.  Their  conception 
of  God  is  not  pantheistic  or  speculative  ;  nor  can 
their  piety  be  called  ecstatic,  any  more  than  their 
morality,  in  many  respects  puerile  and  super- 
ficial, bears  an  ascetic  character.  Pietism  settled 
down  comfortably  both  in  Church  and  State,  and 
never  overstepped  the  boundaries  of  social  life. 
On  the  contrary,  none  obeyed  Luther's  injunctions  : 
**  to  live  and  to  labour  in  that  state  of  life  to  which 


OUTCROPS  AND  AFTER-EFFECTS    269 

he  had  been  called,"  more  scrupulously  than  those 
industrious,  kind-hearted  people  who  served  their 
God  with  plane  and  saw,  rejoicing  in  the  fact  that 
Jesus  himself  had  been  a  carpenter  and  Paul  a 
tentmaker.     Untiring  philanthropists  they  were 
who    established    schools,    orphanages,  and    dis- 
pensaries with  as  much  vigour  as  they  printed 
Bibles  and  sent  out  missionaries.     These  pietistic 
ancestors  laid  the  foundation  of  the  ideal  social 
virtues  afterwards  embodied  in  the  Rationalists 
The  Humanists  and  pedagogues  of  the  eighteenth 
century  merely  reasoned  out   what  the  Pietists 
had  conceived  by  faith. 

This  pietistic  faith,  however,  became  fanatical 
as  it  came  nearer  to  the  point-so  sadly  neglected 
by    Orthodoxy— namely,   the    point    of    perfect 
resignation  and  self-sacrifice.    There  was  a  hunger- 
ing and  thirsting  which  reason  could  not  satisfy  • 
they  therefore  refreshed  themselves  at  the  living 
source  of  Lutheranism,  even  though  they  had  to 
search  it  out  from  under  the  dry  leaves      They 
went  back  to  the  old  wells ;    they  read  St    Ber- 
nard's exposition  of  the  Song  of  Solomon  and 
Suso's  Book  of   Wisdom,  and  drew  fresh  water 
from  the  nearest  spring,  the  New  Catholic  mysti- 
cism of  Molinos  and  Francis  de  Sales.    They  did 
not  go  quite  as  far  as  the  "disinterested  love" 
theory  of  Madame  Chantal  and  Madame  Guyon  • 
they  were  too  practical  and  energetic  for  that' 


i 


270 


MYSTICISM 


Yet,  in  their  active  workaday  life  and  in  their 
observance  of  holy  days,  there  is  an  undercurrent 
of  Quietism,  which  made  their  souls  passively 
expectant. 

The  love  which  they  learned  from  the  mystics 
was  not  disinterested,  like  that  of  Madame  Guyon 
and  Fénelon.  The  struggle  against  the  erotic  and 
the  egotistical  in  their  resignation  to  God,  intro- 
duced by  Madame  Guyon,  and  carried  further  by 
Fénelon,  found  no  place  in  German  Pietism.  But 
there  is  over  it  all  an  atmosphere  of  trembling  and 
languishing,  of  feeling  and  tasting,  a  wail  of  amorous 
affection  and  an  unveiled  longing,  which  was  carried 
to  perfection  by  the  Moravian  Brotherhood,  who 
in  their  inner  life  and  their  social  arrangements 
are  more  mystical  than  the  Pietists.  All  this 
leaven  of  mysticism  flows  through  Zinzendorf's 
sacred  hymns. 

But  the  purer  form  of  Pietism  also  breathes 
the  spirit  of  mysticism,  and  that  this  also  is 
a  product  of  the  seventeenth  century  becomes 
evident  when  we  analyse  the  devotional  writings 
and  hymns  of  the  best  Pietistic  authors.  Let  us 
take  the  most  beautiful  of  them  all,  the  Dane 
Brorson,  whose  spiritual  songs  are  the  groundwork 
of  all  the  Christian  piety  of  the  North,  and  are 
sung  every  Sunday  in  the  churches  of  Schleswig, 
Denmark,  and  Norway,  and  we  cannot  fail  to  see 
the  connection. 


OUTCROPS  AND  AFTER-EFFECTS     271 

The  characteristic  feature  of  this  poetry  is  its 
strong,    subjective   strain,    the   constant    circling 
round  the  feelings  of  the  soul.     The  movement  is 
the  same  as  in  the  days  of  St.  Teresa,  a  gradual 
c  mibing  up  from   the  soul's  complete  emptiness 
of  God  to  the  perfect  enjoyment  of  God's  presence 
However  biblicaUy  Brorson  discourses  on  sin  and 
grace,  m  his  comprehension  of  the  poles  of  Christian 
life,  there  is  something  of  these  contrasts  :   empti- 
ness  and   fulness,  distance  and   nearness,   which 
were  the  chief  points  in  St.  Augustine's  mysticism. 
Thirst  and  dryness  of  soul,  cold  and  darkness  are 
the  negative  pole  of  his  experience.     This  is  the 
stccttas  with  which  mysticism  always  works  •   the 
^barrenness  "  of  the  soul  until  it  is  touched  by 
God.     This  sterility  expresses  God's  anger  ;    man 
feels  himself  lost  in  his  sinfulness,  rejected,  aban- 
doned.     Longing  and  sighing,  urging  and  weeping 
are  the  signs  which  mark  this  period.     But  com- 
fort is  near,  for,  by  the  persistent  feeling  of  want  and 
emptiness,  the  soul  is  being  prepared  for  the  fulness 
of  grace.    This  grace,  which  in  the  first  place  is  the 
forgiveness  of  sins,  comes  as  a  sudden  revelation  as 
a  breaking  through  the  clouds,  of  warmth  and  li^ht 
as  a  refreshing  stream,  as  a  fertilising  influence.' 
Then  the  hour  of  gladness  has  come,  then  the 
victory  is  won,  and  suddenly  the  struggle  is  at  an 
end.     It  comes  of  itself,  for  it  is  grace  ;    but  it 
only  comes  where  the  emptiness  is  felt  to  its  full 


i 


272 


MYSTICISM 


extent.  It  comes  in  the  way  of  God's  law  of 
salvation,  as  the  rose  came  forth  and  the  seed 
bore  fruit  when  the  world  was  void  and  empty  ; 
but  it  also  comes  as  a  kind  of  psychological 
necessity.  From  emptiness  springs  fulness ; 
when  the  heart  is  most  troubled,  the  harp  of 
joy  is  being  tuned  that  it  may  have  the  truer 
sound. 

This  condition  of  expectancy,  which  is  the  point 
of  gravitation  in  his  psychology,  Brorson  has  no- 
where entered  into  more  deeply  than  in  his  beau- 
tiful poem,  "  Wait,  O  wait,  and  keep  silence,  O 
my  soul  !  "  This  poem,  the  first  verse  of  which 
sounds  like  the  refrain  of  all  mysticism,  is  the 
northern  and  Protestant  counterpart  of  St. 
Teresa's  description  of  the  watering  of  the  soul's 
garden.  Brorson's  symbol  of  the  soul  forsaken 
of  God  is  not  Spanish  barrenness  and  dryness 
of  soil,  but  the  gloomy  northern  winter.  Not 
masoned  waterworks  and  artificial  makeshifts, 
but  the  gradually  approaching  northern  spring- 
time, represents  to  him  the  process  the  soul  has 
to  pass  through  before  the  blessing  comes.  There, 
the  zeal  of  Catholic  hands,  watering  the  garden 
until  the  moisture  comes  of  its  own  accord,  ending 
in  showers  of  heavenly  blessing  ;  here,  in  Brorson's 
poem,  only  silent  expectation  and  passive  re- 
ceptiveness  :  "  Only  in  waiting  thy  summer  is 
sure." 


OUTCROPS  AND  AFTER-EFFFXTS    273 

Constant  expectation,  constant  drawing  nearer  • 
always  step  by  step,  such  is  the  desired  attitude.' 
All  that  happens  to  the  soul  has  its  prototype  in 
nature ;   all  is  done  for  the  soul,  not  by  the  soul. 
And   when   Brorson   refers   to   the   "anguish   of 
dryness,"  he  does  not  set  to  work  with  watering- 
cans  and  augers,  he  does  not  dig  canals  to  convey 
the  water  of  life,  he  only  knows  of  one  remedy 
the  remedy  that  comes  without  our  aid,  when  the 
hour  of  grace  has  struck— 

"Come,  heavenly  shower,  refresh  the  earth 
And  make  it  a  vaUey  where  the  Ulies  grow." 

Therefore  ultimately  and  intrinsically  Brorson 
IS  Protestant ;   and  whatever  may  be  said  against 
Pietism,  that  it  is  Catholic  and  mystical,  Reformed 
or  Anabaptistic,  one  thing  is  certain,  namely,  that 
It  was  a  revival  of  Lutheran  Christianity,  that  it 
saved  the  life  of  Lutheranism  when  it  was  ready  to 
die,  and  vitalised  its  spiritual  and  social  energies 
into  bemg  more  what  they  were  in  Luther's  days 
than  m  the  days  of  even  his  immediate  successors- 
although  possibly  the  life  thus  revived  was  lived 
with  paler  cheeks  and  more  sombre  mien  than 
Luther's  life  and  early  Lutherdom  ever  was. 


Rationalism  was  not  the  death  of  mysticism 
as  many  people  imagine.    The  roots  of  Pietism' 

18 


i 


iiBfiiiiliilHflffil1i^itnlflf.iAiffif  nif  imwiinmi 


274 


MYSTICISM 


had  struck  too  deeply,  and  mysticism  is  too  closely 
interwoven  with  human  inclinations  to  make 
it  possible  for  it  to  disappear  altogether  from 
the  ken  of  religion.  Moreover,  the  enlightened, 
rationalistic  views  were,  especially  at  first,  confined 
to  the  upper  classes  and  the  scholars,  and  did  not 
penetrate  to  the  masses.  When  in  simple  folk  the 
intellect  was  roused,  they  did  very  much  the  same 
as  did  the  parents  of  Jung  Stilling,  they  read  the 
works  of  John  Arndt  and  Thomas  å  Kempis,  and 
even  those  of  Jacob  Boehme  and  Fénelon,  and 
were  edified  by  them.  They  drew  from  the  wells 
of  mysticism  the  inner  light  which  the  higher 
and  enlightened  circles  drew  from  the  intellect, 
and  set  up  as  new  lamps. 

Yet  how  easy  and  gentle  could  be  the  transition 
of  mysticism  into  Rationalism,  even  within  the 
sacred  precincts  of  scientific  culture,  we  have 
already  had  occasion  to  notice  in  the  case  of 
Leibniz  and  Fénelon,  but  a  more  violent  and 
more  direct  breaking  through  of  the  mystic  vein 
took  place  in  the  mind  of  a  man  who  occupied  a 
high  position  in  the  physical-mathematical  world 
of  his  day,  and  whose  moral  strength  and  refine- 
ment placed  him  on  a  line  with  the  noblest 
intellects  of  the  period.  We  refer  to  the  Swedish 
seer,  Emmanuel  Swedenhorg.  The  "  Traume  eines 
Geistersehers  "  (Dreams  of  a  Visionary),  as  Kant 
styled    Swedenborg's    ideas,    are    not    merely    a 


OUTCROPS  AND  AFTER-EFFECTS    275 

ZT""'  °!  r*^'™  P^""'"^^'  ^"^»^  ^^  t°  this  day 
leads  excitable  minds  into  aU  kind  of  mystical 

extravagances,  nor  was  Swedenborg  in  the  first 

instance  a  clairvoyant  and  spiritualist.    His  was 

rather  an  all-embracing  mind,  who  set  himself  the 

enormous  task  of  building  up  a  system  of  nature 

which,  after  the  manner  of  the  Areopagite,  was  to 

encompass  and  bring  into  natural  harmony  the 

spiritual  and  the  material  scopes  of  the  world     He 

it/ P  t  '°r'^  '^"'''"""^^y  ^"'^  amateurishly, 
like  a  Boehme  had  done,  but  with  all  the  means  o 

science  at  his  disposal  he  built  up  a  ladder,  with 
naturally  graduating  and  mutually  corresponding 
steps,  landing  one  ultimately  into  the  world  of 
spirits  with  whom  man  can  hold  intercourse  even 
m    mortal   life.     This    latter    adjunct    was    the 
mysticism    m    Swedenborg.    The    boundaries   of 
knowledge   set   by  his   contemporary   Kant,   he 
either  did  not  know  or  ignored.     The  way   to 
God  also  he  made  direct,  plain  to  the  Christian 
mind    because  the  invisible  is  incorporated  in 
Christ,  and,  existing  in  Him  alone,  is  accessible  to 
the  receptive  mind  as  an  historical  fact 

The  distinctive  principle  of  Swedenborg's  theo- 
logy however.-that  the  spiritual  is  only  visible 
in  the  corporeal,  the  divine  only  comprehensible  in 
the  human,--is  a  foreboding  of  the  Romantic 
School.  Swedenborg  is  not  a  Romanticist,  nor 
a    Rationalist,  properly    speaking.     Both    these 


i 


276 


MYSTICISM 


schools  looked  upon  him  as  eccentric,  but  his 
influence  was  not  as  great  as  that  of  that  other 
eccentric,  his  contemporary,  Jean  Jacques  Rousseau, 
who  also  stood  midway  between  Romanticism  and 
Rationalism;  Rousseau  brought  the  forces  of 
Rationalism  to  bear  upon  Romanticism,  and  his 
ideas  are  therefore  to  this  day  of  universal  signifi- 
cance for  the  spiritual  life  of  Europe.  Sweden- 
borg's  influence  was  the  influence  of  a  sectarian 
—only  sectarians  have  followed  him. 

With  the  Romantic  School,  mysticism  once  more 
found  a  wide  entrance  among  the  upper  classes  of 
society,  and  took  hold  of  the  rulmg  spirits  of  the 
time.  The  sentiments  and  poetry  of  this  period 
were  so  obviously  akin  to  mysticism  that  no 
one  could  pretend  not  to  be  aware  of  the  rela- 
tionship. In  the  literary  effusions  of  the  writers 
of  Romanticism  we  at  once  recognise  the  direc- 
tion their  minds  have  taken.  The  writings  of  the 
old  mystics  are  again  consulted.  Hegel  studies 
Master  Eckhart,  and  ScheUing  goes  into  ecstasies 
over  Jacob  Boehme,  while  Novalis  is  absorbed  in 
Heinrich  Suso.  The  translation  of  the  Spanish 
mystics,  already  attempted  by  the  Pietistic  School, 
is  resumed.  Students  invigorate  themselves  with 
the  mysticism  of  the  East.  India's  wisdom 
attracts  Friedrich  Schlegel,  and   he  transplants 


OUTCROPS  AND  AFTER-EFFECTS    277 

the  mystical  didactic  poem,  Bhagavadgita,  into 
European  soil.  RUckert  translates  Persian  mystics, 
and  the  theologian  Tholuck  writes  the  first  German 
book  about  Sufism. 

The  influence  of  mysticism  in  the   Romantic 
School  is  also  very  personal  and  individual.     This 
form  of  it  still  survives  in  the  lay  piety  of  the 
Roman  Catholics,  the  Moravian  Brethren,  and  the 
Puritans.     To  some  it  is  a  reminiscence  of  their 
childhood,  recalling  old  associations,  to  others  it 
comes  in  riper  years  in  the  form  of  a  strong  and 
mighty    friend.     Sometimes    the    poets    of    that 
period    look    back  with    longing   to  the    mystic 
charm  of  the  Catholic  church,  bewailing  a  treasure 
that  is  lost.     This  is  reflected  in  Schiller's  works, 
although  the  poet  himself  loses  none  of  his  Kantian 
clearness. 

He  makes  his  Mortimer  into  the  convert,  but 
the  enthusiasm  with  which  the  newly  converted 
discourses  upon  the  power  and  the  beauty  of  the 
Roman  worship,  is  not  merely  poetic  fancy; 
SchUler  must  have  felt  the  overpowering  influence 
of  it  himself. 

"What  were  my  feeUngs,  then,  as  I  approached 
The  threshold  of  the  churches,  and  within, 
Heard  heav'nly  music  floating  in  the  air  • ' 
While  from  the  walls  and   high-wrought  roofs  there 
stream'd 

Crowds  of  celestial  forms  in  endless  train- 
When  the  Most  High,  Most  Glorious,  pervaded 


278 


MYSTICISM 


My  captivated  sense  in  real  presence  ! 

And  when  I  saw  the  great  and  godlike  visions, 

The  Salutation,  the  Nativity, 

The  Holy  Mother,  and  the  Trinity's 

Descent,  the  luminous  Transfiguration  : 

And  last  the  holy  Pontiff,  clad  in  all 

The  glory  of  his  ofi&ce,  bless  the  people  ! 

O  1     What  is  all  the  pomp  of  gold  and  jewels 

With  which  the  kings  of  earth  adorn  themselves  ! 

He  is  alone  surrounded  by  the  Godhead  ; 

His  mansion  is  in  truth  an  heav'nly  kingdom, 

For  not  of  earthly  moulding  are  these  forms  !  " 

{Mary  Stuart,  Act  i.  Scene  vi.     T.  Mellish's 
Standard  Translation.) 

What  Mortimer  experienced  is  the  same  as  what 
Wackenroder  describes  in  his  Kunstliebendem 
Klosterbruder,  but  here  given  in  the  form  of  a 
personal  confession  which  gives  a  deep  insight 
into  the  poet's  heart : — 

*'  The  glorious  temple,  the  surging,  swaying 
masses  of  people,  the  splendid  preparations,  all 
this  entranced  me.  A  feeling  of  great  solemnity 
came  over  me,  and  although  I  had  no  coherent 
thoughts  I  felt  strangely  moved  as  if  something 
extraordinary  was  about  to  happen  to  me.  Sud- 
denly there  was  a  great  hush,  and  above  it  rose 
the  mighty  sound  of  music,  like  a  gust  of  wind 
blowing  over  our  heads.  My  heart  beat  more 
quickly,  a  longing  possessed  me  for  something 
great  and  exalted  that  I  might  embrace  it.  .  .  . 
And  as  the  music  thus  enveloped  my  soul  and 
flowed  through  all  my  veins  I  lifted  up  my  eyes 


OUTCROPS  AND  AFTER-EFFECTS    279 

and    gazed    round  ...  and    the    whole    temple 
seemed  to  be  alive,  for  the  music  had  intoxicated 
me.     Just  then  it  stopped.     A  priest  approached 
the  high  altar,  raised  the  host,  and  showed  it  to 
the    assembled    people.  ...  All    sank    on    their 
knees,  and  a  secret,  wonderful   power   drew  me 
also  irresistibly  down  to  the  ground.     I  could  not 
have  remained  standing,  however  much  I  might 
have  wished  to  do  so,  and  as  I  knelt,  with  head 
bent  low,  and  my  heart  full  to  bursting,  an  inexplic- 
able  power  again  made  me  look  up.     As  I  gazed  it 
appeared  to  me  as  if  all  those  bent  forms  were 
praying  to  the  Heavenly  Father  for  the  salvation 
of  my  soul,  as  if  all  those  hundreds  assembled 
there  were  sending  up  their  supplications  for  the 
lost  one  in  their  midst,  and  their  silent  devotion 
irresistibly  drew  me  towards  their  belief.  ...  My 
eye  fell  on  the  altar  and  a  picture  of  Christ  on  the 
cross,  looking  at  me  with  inexpressible  sadness  • 
the  mighty  pillars  of  the  temple,  rising  as  it  were 
in  adoration,  seemed  like  the  apostles  and  saints 
gazmg  down  on  me,   from  the  height  of  their 
capitals  .  .  .  while    the    immense    dome    of   the 
Cathedral,  curving  over  the  whole  assembly,  was 
like  the  aU-encompassing  vault  of  heaven,  bringing 
blessings  on  me  and  my  pious  resolutions."  ^ 
In  Stollberg  and  ZachariasWerner  the  reform  from 

'Phantasien  iiher  die  Kunst,  published  by  L.  Tieck.  2nd 
ed.  1814,  pp.  151-153. 


28o 


MYSTICISM 


fancifulness  back  to  reality  was  effected.  The 
latter  carried  his  romantic  enthusiasm  into  the 
glowing  ardour  of  a  Redemptorist  monk  ;  StoUberg, 
whose  Pietistic  notions  had  brought  him  into  the 
Catholic  Church,  preserved  in  his  poetic  effusions 
the  quiet  gravity  of  the  Pietists  under  the  more 
agreeable  forms  of  Roman  Catholicism.  For 
Brentano,  who  owed  his  personal  conversion  to 
Stollberg,  it  was  not  necesary  to  make  an  outward 
act  of  joining  the  Church  of  Rome,  for  he  had  been 
born  in  that  belief.  In  Ida  Hahn-Hahn  we  have 
an  example  of  the  romantic  conversion,  which 
many  women  of  that  age  followed,  or  would  have 
liked  to  imitate.  **  There  is  a  wave  of  Catholicism 
passing  over  the  world,"  says  the  wise  historian 
Geijer,  observing  the  phenomenon  from  his  study 
at  Upsala.  No  one,  however,  at  that  time  fully 
realised  the  service  which  Romanticism  was 
rendering  to  the  Roman  Church.  Wherever  Roman 
Catholicism  existed  it  was  being  illumined  and 
energised  by  Romanticism.  The  classical  example 
of  this  is  Chateaubriand's  "  Génie  du  Christianisme," 
a  book  teeming  with  mysticism  and  mysteries,  and 
re-estabHshing  over  all  these  mysterious  theories 
the  authority  of  the  ancient  Church.  Even  the 
latent  Catholicism  of  England  was  roused  to  full 
activity  in  the  practical  Romanticist  Newman. 
Romanticism  has  amply  repaid  the  Catholic 
Church  for  all  it  borrowed  from  her. 


OUTCROPS  AND  AFTER-EFFECTS    281 

Not  only  the  Catholic  Church,  but  also  Protestant 
mysticism  supplied  the  Romanticists  with  plenty 
of  good  material.      The  hfe  of   Thomas  Carlyle 
shows  how  a  descendant  of  the  old  Puritan  School, 
awakened  to  a  new  life  through  the  philosophy  and 
poetry  of  Romanticism,  turns  again  to  the  mysti- 
cism of  his  early  youth  and  makes  it  the  basis  of 
his  belief.     And  how  much  of  Moravian  mysticism 
there  is  in  all  German  poetry  !     Through  Frl  v. 
Klettenherg  this  mystic  vein  touched  Goethe  in  his 
youth,  and  had  for  a  time  a  beneficial  influence 
over  his  heart   and  mind.     The  "  Bekenntnisse 
einer  schonen   Seele  "   is  the  monument   to  his 
acquaintance  with  a  sister  of  the  Moravian  Brother- 
hood, whose  influence  over  Goethe  cannot  be  too 
highly  esteemed. 

Novalis,  a  genuine  mystic  of  the  German  School 
of  Romanticism,  generally  gives  the  impression 
of  being  a  Roman  Catholic.  But  he  also  had  in  his 
youth  been  overshadowed  by  Herrnhutism,  and 
his  father  was  a  strict  Pietist.  On  the  young 
poet  the  spirit  of  the  Moravian  Brethren  had 
a  depressing  efl[ect,  and  ever  after  he  thought 
of  them  with  dislike.  Yet  in  this  atmosphere 
germs  ripened  which  afterwards  blossomed  out 
in  his  poetry. 

It  is  well  to  observe,  however,  that  love-sick 
notes  are  struck  but  seldom  in  the  hymns  of 
Novalis.     As  a  writer  of  hymns  he  has  rather 


^ 


282 


MYSTICISM 


resuscitated  the  intimate  tone  of  Paul  Gerhard's 
than  of  Zinzendorf 's  mysticism. 

The  most  powerful  representative  of  mysticism 
in  the  age  of  the  Romantic  School  was  the  theo- 
logian Schleiermacher,  His  boyhood  had  been 
spent  in  the  school  of  the  Moravian  Brotherhood 
at  Barby,  and  the  religious  impressions  there 
received  influenced  his  university  career  at  Halle 
and  his  whole  after  life.  His  Reden  ["  Discourses 
on  Religion  "),  written  about  ten  years  after  he 
came  to  Halle,  have  the  edifying  ring  of  a  sermon 
of  the  Moravian  Brotherhood,  but  they  contain  a 
great  deal  more  of  it  than  the  mere  ring. 

Was  it  a  mere  accident  that  a  shoemaker's 
apprentice  belonging  to  the  Moravian  Brother- 
hood one  day  was  sent  to  the  lady  de  Kriidener's 
house  to  measure  her  for  a  pair  of  boots  ?  Who 
can  say  what  might  have  been  the  result  of  the 
"  Holy  Alliance  "  if  this  impulsive  lady  had  not 
been  struck  by  the  inner  joy  illumining  the  face  of 
this  young  shoemaker  ?  From  that  time  forward, 
feeding  on  Moravian  piety,  she  acquired  that 
unique,  impressive  tone  of  mystical  intimacy 
which  proved  irresistible  to  the  highest  in  the 
illustrious  company  assembled  at  the  Vienna 
Congress.  Through  her  influence  religion  became 
a  strong,  co-operative  factor  in  that  political  circle, 
and  we  are  told  that  it  was  she  who  wrote  the 
momentous  words,  "  The  Holy  Alliance,"  over  the 


OUTCROPS  AND  AFTER-EFFECTS    283 

document  that  for  fifteen  years  was  to  govern  the 
fate  of  Europe. 

This  was  not  a  chance  alliance  of  worldly  and 
spiritual  elements;  from  all  eternity  outward 
pressure  and  inward  longing  go  side  by  side. 
Mysticism  has  always  flourished  under  the  oppres- 
sion of  tyranny,  and  it  has  been  rightly  said  that 
the  despotism  of  the  small  German  States  and  the 
oppression  of  the  Napoleonic  rule  largely  aided  in 
leading  excitable  folks  into  tearful  and  quaking 
fits  of  religion,  into  sentimental  versemaking  and 
fantastic  ways  of  thinking,  while  under  freer  con- 
ditions the  same  people  might  by  their  energetic 
efforts  have  helped  to  improve  the  world. 

The  sultry  air  of  the  "  Alliance  "  period  still 
affects  the  Protestantism  of  the  fifties  of  last 
century.  The  inactive  self-satisfaction  and  the 
languid  resignation  intermixed  with  worldly- 
mindedness,  which  characterises  the  religion  of 
that  decade,  embittered  men  like  Feuerbach  and 
Soren  Kierkegaard  against  official  Christianity. 
Albrecht  Ritschl  also  realised  that  the  disease  from 
which  the  Lutheran  church  suffered  was  mysticism 
and  Romanticism.  The  speculative  notions  of 
theologians,  and  their  dislike  of  cultural  progress, 
which  he  zealously  set  himself  to  fight  against, 
may  be  looked  upon  as  the  dregs  of  the  mystic- 
romantic  fermentation;  but  the  revival  of  arts 
and  sciences  and  new  religious  energy  soon  brought 


284 


MYSTICISM 


this  gloomy  period  to  a  close.  What  we  have  to 
fight  against  in  the  present  day  is  the  semi-Catholi- 
cism into  which — thanks  to  the  Romantic  School — 
Lutheranism  has  degenerated,  namely,  clerically  : 
scholastic  speculation  and  religious  traditionalism ; 
and  in  lay  piety  :  belief  in  miracles  and  faith- 
healing.  Romanticism  has  followed  the  regular 
mode  of  mysticism.  It  began  by  invigorating  the 
mind,  and  ended  by  weakening  it  ;  and  the  weak- 
ened mind,  like  the  weakened  body,  loses  the  power 
of  mobility. 

Looking  back  upon  those  energetic  days  of  the 
Romanticists,  we  marvel,  however,  at  the  wide 
range  of  their  ideas,  the  healthiness  of  their  views, 
their  superiority  over  the  mystical  communities 
from  which  they  drew  their  nourishment,  which 
were  Pietism,  Moravian  Brotherhood,  Catholicism. 
The  Romantic  School,  however,  aimed  at  other 
things  than  the  sectarians,  whose  object  was  to 
produce  a  set  of  people  made  after  a  certain  mould, 
or  than  the  church,  the  basis  of  whose  sovereign 
rule  was  the  realm  of  nature.  Early  Romanticism 
was  a  very  near  relative  of  the  Rationalistic 
School.  We  see  this  in  Leibniz,  who  endeavoured 
to  gather  all  things  together  into  one  unity :  faith 
and  knowledge,  God  and  the  world,  spirit  and 
nature,  the  religious  and  the  mundane.  To 
accomplish  this.  Rationalism  gave  a  new  inter- 
pretation to  the  Bible,  and  narrowed  down  Chris- 


OUTCROPS  AND  AFTER-EFFECTS    285 

tianity  ;  Leibniz  wanted  to  fit  religion  into  the 
frame  of  the  ideas  he  had  formed.  The  Roman- 
ticists also  aimed  at  the  restoration  of  this  unity, 
but  their  methods  were  just  the  opposite.  They 
enlarged  their  views  of  life  in  order  that  the 
infinite  might  be  encompassed  by  them.  They 
made  nature  into  a  higher,  the  human  soul  into  a 
deeper  thing— for  are  not  both  indwelt  by  the 
Divine  Spirit  ?  That  there  exists  a  something 
outside  of  our  world  which  gives  it  meaning  and 
existence,  in  this  they  all  agreed.  Had  not  Kant 
said  long  ago  that  behind  the  visible  things  of  this 
world  there  was  a  something  which  no  human 
understanding  could  grasp  ? 

Goethe  also  bases  his  conception  of  the  world  on 
this  ununderstandable  something,  but  his  poetic 
soul  cannot  rest  satisfied  in  contemplating  an  alto- 
gether unfathomable  reality.  He  tries  at  least 
poetically  to  conceive  the  basis  of  our  existence, 
and  sees  in  the  phenomena  of  the  world  symbols 
of  the  real  life.  All  nature  is  a  message  from  the 
great  unknown — 

"  Nature's  impenetrable  agencies, 
Are  they  not  thronging  on  thy  heart  and  brain, 
Unseen  yet  visible  to  mortal  ken, 
Around  thee  weaving  their  mysterious  reign  ? 

''Visible  invisibility"  is  the  mystic  twihght ; 
through  the  visible  the  invisible  speaks  to  us. 
All    that    is    transitory    is    but    symbolic ;    the 


284 


MYSTICISM 


this  gloomy  period  to  a  close.  What  we  have  to 
fight  against  in  the  present  day  is  the  semi-Catholi- 
cism into  which — thanks  to  the  Romantic  School — 
Lutheranism  has  degenerated,  namely,  clerically  : 
scholastic  speculation  and  religious  traditionalism ; 
and  in  lay  piety  :  belief  in  miracles  and  faith- 
healing.  Romanticism  has  followed  the  regular 
mode  of  mysticism.  It  began  by  invigorating  the 
mind,  and  ended  by  weakening  it  ;  and  the  weak- 
ened mind,  like  the  weakened  body,  loses  the  power 
of  mobility. 

Looking  back  upon  those  energetic  days  of  the 
Romanticists,  we  marvel,  however,  at  the  wide 
range  of  their  ideas,  the  healthiness  of  their  views, 
their  superiority  over  the  mystical  communities 
from  which  they  drew  their  nourishment,  which 
were  Pietism,  Moravian  Brotherhood,  Catholicism. 
The  Romantic  School,  however,  aimed  at  other 
things  than  the  sectarians,  whose  object  was  to 
produce  a  set  of  people  made  after  a  certain  mould, 
or  than  the  church,  the  basis  of  whose  sovereign 
rule  was  the  realm  of  nature.  Early  Romanticism 
was  a  very  near  relative  of  the  Rationalistic 
School.  We  see  this  in  Leibniz,  who  endeavoured 
to  gather  all  things  together  into  one  unity  :  faith 
and  knowledge,  God  and  the  world,  spirit  and 
nature,  the  religious  and  the  mundane.  To 
accomplish  this.  Rationalism  gave  a  new  inter- 
pretation to  the  Bible,  and  narrowed  down  Chris- 


OUTCROPS  AND  AFTER-EFFECTS    285 

tianity  ;  Leibniz  wanted  to  fit  religion  into  the 
frame  of  the  ideas  he  had  formed.  The  Roman- 
ticists also  aimed  at  the  restoration  of  this  unity, 
but  their  methods  were  just  the  opposite.  They 
enlarged  their  views  of  life  in  order  that  the 
infinite  might  be  encompassed  by  them.  They 
made  nature  into  a  higher,  the  human  soul  into  a 
deeper  thing— for  are  not  both  indwelt  by  the 
Divine  Spirit  ?  That  there  exists  a  something 
outside  of  our  world  which  gives  it  meaning  and 
existence,  in  this  they  all  agreed.  Had  not  Kant 
said  long  ago  that  behind  the  visible  things  of  this 
world  there  was  a  something  which  no  human 
understanding  could  grasp  ? 

Goethe  also  bases  his  conception  of  the  world  on 
this  ununderstandable  something,  but  his  poetic 
soul  cannot  rest  satisfied  in  contemplating  an  alto- 
gether unfathomable  reality.  He  tries  at  least 
poetically  to  conceive  the  basis  of  our  existence, 
and  sees  in  the  phenomena  of  the  world  symbols 
of  the  real  life.  All  nature  is  a  message  from  the 
great  unknown — 

"  Nature's  impenetrable  agencies, 
Are  they  not  thronging  on  thy  heart  and  brain, 
Unseen  yet  visible  to  mortal  ken. 
Around  thee  weaving  their  mysterious  reign  ? 

"Visible  invisibility"  is  the  mystic  twihght ; 
through  the  visible  the  invisible  speaks  to  us. 
All    that    is    transitory    is    but    symbolic ;    the 


286 


MYSTICISM 


world,  which  time's  whizzing  loom  unceasingly 
weaves,  is  the  life-garment  of  the  Deity.  We 
see  only  the  coloured  reflection,  not  the  sun  itself ; 
its  light  reflected  in  the  rainbow  is  as  much  as  our 
eyes  can  bear.  Thus  all  visible  things  are  a  kind 
of  symbolic  language  in  which  God  speaks  to  us, 
and  which  it  is  our  business  to  understand.  It 
is  our  own  fault  if  we  do  not  understand  it : — 

"  Unlocked  the  realm  of  spirits  lies  ; — 
Thy  sense  is  shut,  thy  heart  is  dead  I  " 

But  when  heart  and  sense  awaken,  then  we  can 
read  the  problem.  The  world  truly  remains  a 
secret,  but  it  becomes  an  '*  open  secret,"  and  as 
the  universe  reveals  its  signs  to  Faust,  he  sees  it 
unfolding  itself  to  his  view  as  the  one  all-encom- 
passing unity : — 

"  How  all  things  hve  and  work,  and,  ever  blending, 
Weave  one  vast  whole  from  Being's  ample  range  ! 
How  powers  celestial,  rising  and  descending, 

Their  golden  buckets  ceaseless  interchange  ! 
Their  flight  on  rapture-breathing  pinions  winging, 
From  heaven  to  earth  their  genial  influence  bringing. 
Through     the    wide    whole     their    chimes    melodious 
ringing." 

The  things  which  Goethe  was  satisfied  to  see 
reflected  in  symbols,  the  next  generation,  the 
Romantic  School,  wanted  to  see,  to  know,  to  feel 
directly.  All  aim  at  this.  To  Jacobi,  faith  is  a 
direct  knowing  of  God;  and  Fichte,  writing  his 
Anweisung    zum    seligen    Leben, — a    book  which 


OUTCROPS  AND  AFTER-EFFECTS    287 

from    beginning    to    end    breathes  mysticism,— 
borrows  Goethe's  idea  where  he  says  that  God 
truly  exists  in  and  for  Himself,  hidden  behind  all 
the  symbols  of  the  universe,  and  that  we  can 
only  by  intuition  know  of  His  existence  behind 
this  veil  of  earthly  things  which  always  hides 
Him  from   our    eyes.     But— he   goes  on   to  say 
—rise  up  to  the  standpoint  of  religion,  and  all 
coverings  faU   away.     The  world  with   its  life- 
less principle  vanishes,  and  the  Godhead  Himself 
takes  up  His  abode  in  thee.    He  comes  in  His 
original  form,  the  form  of  life,  the  form  of  thine 
own  life  which  thou  must  live.     In  the  life  and 
the  love  and  the  deeds  of  the  regenerate  man. 
God  reveals  Himself  no  longer  veUed  or  disguised,' 
but  in  His  own,  direct,  strong  vitality,  and  the 
question.    "What    is    God?"    which    a    vague 
shadowy  conception  of  God  could  not  reply  to  is 
now  answered  thus :  He  is  that  which  shines  out  of 
the  person  inspired  by  Him  and  consecrated  to  Him 

Tauler  could  speak  in  a  similar  manner  but'' 
Novalis  excels  even  Fichte  in  palpable  mysti- 
cism :  "  We  touch  heaven  when  we  lay  hands  on 
a  human  body.  Where  is  God  to  be  found  if 
not  in  human  flesh  and  blood  ?  "  Carlyle  has  it 
from  Novalis. 

It  is  always  oneness,  and  the  direct  apprehension 
of  this  oneness,  which  the  soul  desires.    God  in  I 
the  world  of  nature.  God  in  ourselves ;  and  m 


288 


MYSTICISM 


HegeVs  philosophy  the  transcendental  climax  is 
reached  in  the  thought  that  religion  is  man's 
consciousness  of  the  absolute  spirit  within  him, 
which  has  found  its  most  perfect  expression  in 
the  words  of  Jesus  :  ''  I  and  the  Father  are  one." 
This  is  the  thought  to  which  faith  leads  through 
symbols  and  visible  things,  but  greater  than  this 
faith  with  its  pictures  and  representations  is  the 
direct  philosophical  apprehension,  when  the  think- 
ing mind  rises  to  the  abode  of  absolute  conscious- 
ness, high  above  all  finite  things,  and  thus  itself 
becomes  infinite  consciousness. 

To  us  this  language  sounds  unfamiliar  and 
foreign,  as  if  it  emanated  from  Indian  or  Platonic 
philosophers,  for  they  indeed  said  very  much  the 
same  thing.  Yet  we  reap  the  benefit  of  the 
extravagant  notions  our  fathers  indulged  in. 
For  out  of  these  Romantic  speculations  has  been 
born  the  consciousness  of  the  Infinite  which  now 
appears  so  natural  to  us.  The  world  of  human 
thought  has  become  enlarged  and  widened  by  all 
this  transcendentalism,  all  this  soaring  into  the 
ethereal  blues.  Natural  science  has  not  been 
our  only  guide  to  these  heights.  And  God  has 
become  enlarged  for  us,  and  our  life  is  enlarged, 
because  we  have  learned  to  apprehend  the  Infinite. 

Besides  all  this,  we  owe  it  to  the  Romantic 
School  that  it  has  brought  us  in  closer  touch  with 
nature.     The   word    *'  nature "    resounds   like   a 


OUTCROPS  AND  AFTER-EFFECTS    289 

canticle  throughout  this  school  of  thought.     It 
resounds  in  its  poetry,  its  science,  its  philosophy. 
All  its  scholars  have  studied  nature,  and  have 
returned  the  richer  for  it.     Although  maybe  in 
strange    fantastic    ways,    yet    they    investigated 
nature ;  dreamily  perhaps,  yet  they  lived  nature. 
Nature  revealed  its  beauty  to  them,  until  they 
saw  it  in  everything.     They  felt  the  powers  of 
nature  pulsating  through  their  innermost   being, 
and  they  realised   that    in    nature    the    highest 
power  reveals  itself.     Or   perhaps :  the  power  of 
the  Most   High.     For  where  the  true  scholar  of 
the    Romantic    School  elevates  himself    to  God 
and  is  not  content  with  the  Divinity  of  nature, 
he  nevertheless  sees  God  reflected  in  nature,  or 
he  considers  nature  as   a    symbol   of   Divinity. 
This  was  Stollberg's  experience  when  he  adored 
"beautiful,    divine    nature."     Thus    all    of    this 
school  have  more  or  less  looked  upon  nature. 

The  most  precious  inheritance  of  those  days  is 
that  craving  for  inward  life  which  it  produced. 
While  philosophers  speculated  themselves  into 
gods,  and  poets  melted  into  nature,  and  thus  each 
in  their  own  way  accomplished  the  mystic  union 
they  craved  for,  a  third  way  to  God  was  found, 
the  way  of  devotion  and  self-surrender.  This 
way  also  was  mystically  taught,  it  had  been  trod 
for  ages ;  and  when  Schleiermachet  at  the  beginning 
of  the  nineteenth  century  gave  his  "  Discourses 
19 


290 


MYSTICISM 


on  Religion,"  he  not  only  spoke  kom  personal 
conviction,  and  led  on  by  the  current  of  the  times, 
but  also  betrayed  his  early  bringing  up  among  the 
Moravian  Brethren,  who  had  initiated  him  into  the 
old  mystic  doctrines.  These  he  now  offered  to  the 
highly  educated  who  despised  religion,  dished  up 
with  all  the  poetical  refinement  and  philosophical 
delicacy  which  culture  could  supply. 

Schleiermacher  made  an  emotional  state  of 
mind  the  basis  of  belief.  In  the  deepest  depth 
of  the  human  heart,  where  consciousness  is  not 
clearly  defined,  and  where  there  is  no  real  activity, 
but  from  whence  proceed  aspirations  and  dreams, 
pious  longings  and  impulses,  there  the  soul  meets 
God,  is  satiated  with  God.  Not  with  one  simple 
faculty  of  the  soul,  but  with  our  whole  inner- 
most being,  do  we  come  before  God.  For  God 
himself  fills  the  whole  universe.  All  the  forces 
and  phenomena  of  the  universe  are  expressive 
of  Him.  To  grasp  this  with  all  the  power  of  our 
soul,  and  to  make  this  the  fundamental  principle 
of  our  life,  that  is  religion. 

And  it  is  also  mysticism,  but  this  mysticism  con- 
tains the  elements  of  true  religion.  In  this  dawn  of 
consciousness,  the  universe  and  nature  and  human 
personality  stand  out  in  their  full  magnitude. 
The  personal  is  the  chief  point  on  which  all 
depends,  for  only  in  so  far  as  I  am  sensible  of 
God's  presence,  in  that  measure  God  exists  for 


OUTCROPS  AND  AFTER-EFFECTS    291 

me.    Though  I  believed  all  things,  did  all  things, 
knew  all  things,  and  did  not  feel  God's  presence 
within  me,  all  my  religion  would  profit  me  nothing. 
Schleiermacher    brought    the    glad    tidings    that 
religion  is  a  personal  matter  and  not  a  general 
thing  which  one  had   but    to   join  to  share  its 
benefits,  as  was  taught  by  the  Catholic  Church 
believed    by    the    Orthodox     Protestants,     and 
preached  by  the  Rationalistic  critical  and  specu- 
lative philosophers  of  the  time.     The  Romantic 
School  had  discovered  the  worth  of  individualism, 
and  Schleiermacher  assigned  it  its  proper  place 
in    religion.     The    vague,    semi-conscious    state 
which  in  his  earlier  writings  he  allots  to  individual- 
ism, gives  place  in  riper  years  to  the  clear  and 
certain  assurance  of  individual  faith.     There  must 
be  not  only  entire    conviction   but   entire   self- 
surrender,  the  feeling  of  absolute  dependence.     Our 
absolute   dependence   on   God   is  our   salvation. 
What  profit  is  it  to  know  that  God  is  absolutely 
good,  as  long  as  it  does  not  affect  our  relation  to 
God? 

This  again  is  one  of  the  theories  which  mysticism 
has  bequeathed  to  mankind,  and  in  Schleier- 
macher's  "  absolute  dependence  "  there  are  still 
remnants  to  be  found  of  the  "  amour  désintéressé  " 
of  the  seventeenth  century.  This  accounts  for 
it  being  somewhat  passive,  and,  as  it  may  be 
said  of  Schleiermacher's  early  definition  of  re- 


iig^yi^^Hi! 


292 


MYSTICISM 


ligion  that  it  has  not  enough  clear  consciousness, 
so  one  may  ]\isi\y  protest  against  his  '*  absolute 
dependence"  theory,  that — like  everything  that 
is  tainted  with  mysticism  —  there  is  too  little 
energetic  vitality  about  it. 

This  objection  was  raised  by  many  who,  no  less 
than  Schleiermacher,  were  of  opinion  that  religion 
was  a  personal  matter  ;  that  subject  i  veness  is 
the  real  thing  ;  that  faith  is  intimacy,  the  passion 
of  intimacy  ;  that  Christianity  is  absolute  self- 
surrender,  a  leap  into  the  depths  of  the  unknown. 
By  none,  however,  this  was  so  eagerly  and  so 
sharply  accentuated  as  by  the  Danish  philosopher, 
Soren  Kierkegaard.  He  set  to  work  with  great 
earnestness  and  skill  to  cut  away  all  the  wrappings 
in  which  faith  had  been  bound  up  to  protect  it 
from  defilement,  but  which  were  all  the  time  eat- 
ing away  its  vitality  :  speculations  and  æsthetics, 
theories  and  traditions,  clerical,  social,  and  indivi- 
dual beliefs.  For  there  is  but  one  faith,  and  it 
must  be  personal ;  and  there  is  but  one  truth,  and  it 
must  be  apprehended  personally. 

This  is  the  last  w^ord  and  essence  of  all  mysticism, 
proclaimed  throughout  the  ages  with  no  uncertain 
sound ;  now  no  longer  clothed  in  mystic  coverings, 
but  boldly  preached  as  the  simple,  human  truth : 
it  is  thou  whom  it  concerns. 

There  is  a  little  Eastern  poem  about  a  young 


OUTCROPS  AND  AFTER-EFFECTS    293 

man  who  in  the  night  goes  to  visit  his  beloved 
and  when  he  knocks  at  her  door  and  she  asks 
who  knocks,  he  answers  :  '*  It  is  I  !  "—But  the 
door  is  not  opened.     Then  he  goes  out  into  the 
solitude  of  night,  and  when  he  returns  and  knocks 
a  second  time,  and  she  asks  who  is  there    he 
answers  :   -  It  is  thou  !  "     Then  she  lets  him  in. 
This,  m  a  few  words,  is  the  history  of  mysticism 
Yet  not  the  whole  of  its  history,  for  there  is  a 
sequel  : — 

A    thousand    years    later    a    lonely    wanderer 
knocked  at  the  door  of  the  Deity,  and  on  being 
asked  who  he  was,  he  answered,  as  he  had  been 
taught  :   -  It  is  thou  !  "-But  the  door  was  not 
opened   to   him.     Then    he   went    out    into   the 
world  and  laboured  hard  and  served  his  neighbour. 
And  when  he  returned  to  the  door  of  heaven, 
and   knocked   and  was   asked  who  he  was    he 
answered  :  -  It  is  I  !  "-and  the  door  was  opened. 
For  God  has  now  revealed  Himself  differently 
He  will  not  that  his  faithful  be  one  with  Him, 
but  that  they,  abiding  in  the  fear  of  God,  retain 
their  individuality.  ^^"^^ 


Printed  by 

Morrison  *  Gibb  I.imiteo 

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